A long week
by veryhermione
Summary: 7th year, Hermione is captured by none other than Draco Malfoy when she is out fighting the fight. He gives her a week to live... but what will happen? Post HBP.
1. The deadline

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, I only borrowed them.**

_Author's note:_ _this is my first story, so I'm still learning. Please r&r :)_

**A long week**

"Do you know who I am?" came a voice from behind the most horrifying mask Hermione had ever seen.

"Of course I do! You're a death eater," she replied, her voice no where near as steady as she would have liked it to be.

He gave a cruel laugh that struck a bolt of terror into her. She glanced around to see if she could see Harry or Ron, but she knew it was hopeless; they were long gone by now.

"Mudblood," – and with that vicious word she knew exactly who he was – "your pathetic friends have gone and left you." He laughed again.

"Malfoy," she gasped, gripping her wand more tightly even though she knew it would be useless; he had his at her throat.

Malfoy ripped off his hat and mask to reveal his face. His hair was shoulder length and untamed and his eyes were huge and wild with excitement. He was paler than she remembered and almost unrecognisable. Malfoy tutted, "took you a while to work that one out. Not going to school this year obviously taking its toll."

He smirked and with his non-wand hand traced the length of her arm, the contact making her shiver, until he felt her hand grasped around her own wand, tugging it gently from her grasp. She relinquished it without much resistance; after all what could she do?

As she let the wand go Hermione felt the last ounce of courage and hope seep out of her. She seemed to deflate and this did not go unnoticed.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Tell me where Potter has gone and I won't hurt you," he said.

For one she didn't believe him, for two even if she did believe him she would not have told him and for three even if she did want to tell him she didn't know where he had gone. "I don't believe you," she replied.

He sneered, "fine. I lied. Shocking, I know. But look at it this way mudblood, you can die quickly or you can die slowly. So slowly that you'll be begging me to end your pathetic and meaningless existence in the end."

She shuddered, her quick brain trying to think up something to say. Anything to get her out of there alive. But she couldn't think of a thing. As the seconds went past, she became more and more desperate and the more desperate she became, the less she could think of anything to say. Maybe Malfoy was right. Maybe not going to school was really having an impact. That made her more panicked.

Her inner turmoil was evident on her face and Malfoy did not fail to notice it. "That straight As brain is not going to help you now." He moved closer to her and growled, "Tell me."

She silently shook her head.

"Have it your way then," he took a breath and Hermione scrunched her eyes closed, "avada-"

"Wait!" she cried

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, "well Granger?"

"I don't know where they are," she began, "but they _will_ try and find me. All you have to do is wait for them to come to you…" she trailed off. She knew that she had spoken the truth and she just hoped that she could escape before they did come.

Malfoy laughed cruelly, "Potter always did like to play the hero, I am sure you are right. But he will come to me whether you are alive or not so really, I don't so any point in keeping you alive." He raised his wand once again.

Hermione thought quickly, "Harry has learnt a lot this past year, including a useful spell for telling if those close to you have been killed," she lied. "And if I am dead, do you really think he is going to bother to come here then? He has slightly bigger fish to fry."

She could tell that this had got him thinking. Lowering his wand slightly, he stared at her, as if just by looking at her he could ascertain whether she was telling the truth. What in Merlin's name was she going to do if he didn't believe her? She _had _to get back to see Harry and Ron; she had found the solution to something that had been puzzling them for months, something that was vitally important if they were ever going to defeat You-Know-Who. Something she had only just worked out. After what felt like half an hour but was probably much closer to half a minute Malfoy seemed to reach a conclusion.

"Alright Granger, I'll give you a week. After that your time is up. If they don't come then, I'll just assume that they are never coming and that you are disposable."

He grabbed hold of the top of her arm with his leather-gloved hand and she felt the familiar feeling of nausea associated with side-along apparition. Hermione fell to her knees when she once again felt solid ground beneath her feet. Head reeling, she looked up and saw what she could only assume was Malfoy Manor. It was exactly as she had always pictured it would be.

Large wrought iron gates were in front of her and beyond that lay a sweeping drive leading up to an imposing stone house. It was late at night but the moon was full and she could make out the outline of the house with its huge trees overshadowing it. A few windows were lit up but most were dark and she did not know if she was imagining but the whole place seemed to almost exude a ghostly, slightly greenish, tinge.

"Come on," he muttered, pulling her up and, still holding on to her arm, pushed the gates open. He pulled her roughly through and up the drive to his house. "Don't make a sound, mudblood, or it will be the last thing you do." Hermione thought she could detect just a hint of uncertainty behind those words, but remained silent.

After a minute or two they came up to the front door and Malfoy opened it and pushed her through. He then proceeded to lead her towards the stairs on the left of the strikingly furnished hallway. The floor was stone with a polar bear skin rug on the floor, the walls were a deep red and a chandelier hung from the ceiling above the sweeping mahogany staircase. But Hermione only had chance to glance at this before she was pushed down the rather less ostentatious stairs. There was no light coming from the bottom of them and she could only just see where the next step was. She reached the bottom without realising and almost lost her balance. Wordlessly Malfoy pulled her along the corridor, which twisted and turned until he came to an abrupt halt. He lit the end of his wand to examine the door which they were standing in front of him and looked like he was going to open it when he seemed to think better of it and started walking off again quickly, taking Hermione by surprise. He turned left then right, opened a small door and went down some more stairs. As they descended, Hermione could feel the air getting cooler and cooler, after all they must be two stories underground by now. The corridor at the foot of these stairs hardly looked like it belonged to a house at all and looked more like a dungeon, which, Hermione thought, it probably was. The ground was broken stone and the walls were made of flaking stone also with the occasional bracket in which to hang a light. It was damp and cobwebs hung from the ceiling.

Eventually, he stopped and looked at a dark wooden door to the left. Seeming more satisfied with this, he pulled it open and shoved her inside. "There is no way out, so I wouldn't even bother looking if I were you," he said in a near whisper, before closing the door behind him and Hermione was plunged into darkness. She had a second or two to examine her surroundings before the door was closed and what she had seen made her shiver. If she had thought that the corridor was like a dungeon then the cell in which she found herself was ten times worse. The floor was nothing more than compacted mud and the walls her so dirty that she had not really been able to see them. She doubted that the place had ever been cleaned. She took in a deep breath and almost choked on the smell and dirt. It was so cold in there, that all her hairs were standing on end and she began to shiver, wrapping her arms close around her to provide what little warmth she could. Finally, despair over took her and she crumbled to the floor, curled up and sobbed her heart out.


	2. Memories

Hermione had no idea how long she had been lying there; all she knew was that it must have been a long time. She had cried for a long time until she had dosed off. The logical part of her brain was irritated with herself for wasting time sleeping, she needed to think, to find a way out of here or to find someway of sending a message to Harry and Ron; tell them not to come here and what she had discovered. She cursed herself for not escaping when she had had the chance. Back in the forest everything had happened so quickly. She suppressed a fresh wave of sobs as she thought of the events. She could not afford to waste any more time. They had thought they were on the brink of all this being over and then the death eaters had come and Harry and Ron had shouted at Hermione to run away, to apparate, but Hermione wanted to fight, she had to fight and avenge her parents. But they had been the sensible ones, they had tried to fight their way through to her and they called and shouted for her to come away but she wouldn't. And then Ron had been hit with a curse and Harry had had to get him out of there, he had to get Ron to safety and so he had apparated him away, assuming that Hermione was coming with him. Once he was gone, of course, there was no way that he could come back… And so Hermione had been left in the cold forest, in the middle of the night, all by herself, except for the one death eater that she had not managed to overpower; Malfoy. And he had taken her wand so she couldn't follow them. She wandered what they were doing now, hopefully nothing to do with trying to find her, she knew that they couldn't afford to waste time on her. But without what she knew she wandered if they could do it. Would Harry work it out on his own? With the help of Ron, of course.

So Hermione sat up and set her mind working. To keep alive for a whole week there was no way that they wouldn't give her any food or water was there? Water, at least, was essential. She wondered if there was any way that she would be able to overpower whoever it was when they came. It would most likely be Malfoy, she thought, having got the distinct impression last night that he didn't want anyone knowing that she was there. _Could_ she overpower him? He didn't have the bulk of his cronies Crabbe and Goyle that was certain, but he certainly had built up muscle over the years and she doubted that she could make him run away when she hit him as she had when she was in third year. Hermione sighed, back then everything had seemed so much simpler.

She doubted that anyone would come any time soon so in the mean time she thought that she might as well see if there was any way out. She remembered that Malfoy had clearly said there wasn't and for once she thought that he was probably right. The room she was in looked (for the few seconds that she had seen it) like it had been built to house enemies of the Malfoy family and she doubted that they had left an exit in the room. But there was no way that she was going to leave that up to chance, so getting to her feet she felt for the wall and recoiled almost immediately when she felt it. It had felt slimy and freezing cold. Taking a steadying breath, she reached out again and, stealing herself, she began to feel the wall, trying to feel for any stones with any give in them or a possible hidden mechanism for getting out. Very slowly, she made her way around the room but to no avail. Then she began on the ceiling which she could just touch with her fingertips. Only once she gave a shrill scream as something crawled across her fingers. Hoping against hope that it was nothing particularly harmful she kept going until she had been over what she thought was all the ceiling. There was nothing there at all that gave her any indication that it would possibly be an escape route.

Dropping to her knees, she started on the floor but there was nothing there either. Knowing that it wouldn't work but trying it anyway, she launched herself against the door but there was no give in it at all and she was thrown back, probably with the help of a spell of Malfoy's making, and landed on the floor. Tears ran down her face once more; she could see no light at the end of the tunnel, no way that she could possibly get out without her wand and no way that she could talk to Harry and Ron. It was hopeless; all was lost and it was all her fault. She put her head in her arms and wept.

Hermione had no idea how much time later, it was impossible to tell with no watch and no light, she heard footsteps coming toward her. They stopped at her door and then the door creaked as it opened and she saw a blinding light. Brighter than she could possibly imagine anything could be. She blinked quickly trying to adjust her eyes to what she assumed was the lit end of a wand and slowly the person behind it came into focus. She hated him so much, his blonde hair, his smug smirk and the way that he looked at her with such disdain. "Figured out there is no way out yet Granger?"

Hermione realised how pathetic she must look; she was shivering violently in the freezing room, tear tracks stained her face and she was sure that her eyes were red and puffy. She was filthy from scrabbling around in the room and her jeans were ripped from earlier, she also had a cut on her shoulder and the blood had soaked into part of her jumper, staining the light pink dark red.

Hermione did not answer him but got unsteadily to her feet, the better to escape or defend herself, whichever was necessary.

Malfoy raised his eyebrow and flicked his wand at a spot by the wall where a glass of water appeared. "If I have to keep you alive, I guess you'll need that. It will refill when you finish it, so I don't have to come down here again."

He turned to go and Hermione realised that this may be her only chance to get out of here. She ran at him, hoping to take him by surprise and escape but he was too quick for her and span round grabbing her by both shoulders so that she couldn't move. She let out a gasp at the firmness of his grasp and the pain that it induced in her shoulder that had been injured in the forest and she was staggered when he removed his hand from that shoulder and instead took hold of her entangled hair. "I thought you might try that mudblood, you are so predictable. Brains won't get you anywhere here. Face it, you're not going anywhere. You'll live out your days in here, in the dark, in the knowledge that Wonder boy and his little sidekick will try and get you and when they do, I'll be ready for them."

Hermione spat in his face and he pushed her backwards, making her fall, still shivering violently, onto the hard floor. "What makes you think that when they come you will be able to get them? You have never managed to defeat them before, always been too much of a coward, so why will you manage it this time?"

Malfoy shocked her by letting out a little laugh. "This time things are different mudblood. I am not a coward anymore; I have been through things this past year that would make your blood boil. And I will be rewarded when I bring the dark lord Potter, beyond anyone. I will become his favourite and my father will quake in his boots when he thinks of me." He stopped suddenly, perhaps thinking that he had said too much, and turned abruptly and left and she was plunged into darkness once more.

Hermione stared at the spot that he had just vacated, wondering what on earth he meant. What had he been through? And was there any way that she could possibly turn what he had just said about his father to her advantage? If he ever came back, that was, which she doubted.

And then she remembered the reason for his visit and realised how thirsty she was. Crawling over in the direction that she assumed the water lay she reached out her hand, feeling for the glass. Sweeping her hand across the floor she accidentally knocked over the vessel and felt the freezing water fall on her hand. Silently thanking Malfoy for the refilling glass and then cursing herself for thanking him and then thinking actually if it wasn't refilling then he would come down here more and she would have more opportunity for escape; she picked up the glass and drank from it.

Sitting back, she tucked her legs up, knees by her ears, and hugged them with her arms, rocking herself gently and attempting to stop shivering. It was so cold; so cold that she was now struggling to think coherently. She tried to think about what she was going to do next, but her thoughts kept drifting back to how she could possibly get warm. She thought about jumping and jogging on the spot but she dismissed the idea, she was not sure that she had enough energy for that, and anyway, what little energy she _did _ have she wanted to conserve for when she would need it more. So what could she do? If only she had not relinquished her wand quite so readily.


	3. The unexpected visit

A while later she was surprised to hear footsteps once again in the hall and the door swung open. Hermione was still in the same position as she had been, now so cold that she felt her extremities had become partially numb and her brain had frozen over. This time she did not even bother to look up, let alone stand up. She did not care what Malfoy had come for, there was nothing that she could do about it. And the light was so bright that she could not have looked up anyway. Hermione heard a dull thud as something landed next to her and she looked next to her feet to find a blanket. She glanced up and saw Malfoy's exiting back. "Wait," she said and seeing him turn around, shielded the light from her eyes and continued roughly "what was that for?"

"I know your brain has dulled, Granger, but I hadn't realised that it had got that bad. It is a blanket."

"I know that," she snapped. "Why did you bring it?"

"One traditionally uses it for warmth; I suggest you do the same."

Hermione looked from Malfoy to the blanket and then back up again. Why would he care if she was freezing or not? Could it be a trick? Was the blanket in some way enchanted? She almost didn't want to touch it in case it was. But the lure of warmth was too powerful and she reached out to it. Feeling no adverse effects at the touch she grabbed hold of it and wrapped it tightly around her.

Immediately feeling warmer, she gazed up at Malfoy to find that he was looking at her with an unreadable expression on his face. She was not sure what to say. If the blanket was all that it seemed then why had he given it to her? She looked into his cold grey eyes and wondered if there was any way that he had just wanted to make her a little warmer. Had he in some way felt sorry for her, even if he didn't realise it himself? Or was she just imagining things. Probably she thought. He hated her and was keeping her after all, with no food, no light and no hope of ever getting out. He interrupted her train of thoughts, "If what you say is true about Potter being able to tell if you are alive or not then I can't have you dying of the cold just yet. There are much better ways to go when the time comes." With that he turned and left her again in the darkness.

At least now Hermione was not quite as cold as she had been before. It was just about bearable and she was warming up enough now that she was able to organise her thoughts into some kind of coherency. It puzzled her greatly that Malfoy had given her a refilling glass of water so that he did not have to keep coming back but then, only a few hours later (she guessed) he had with a blanket. Did he honestly think that she would have died of the cold? It was absolutely freezing but she certainly would not have died of it in a week. So why did he care? Did he want to question her more later? Or did he have something else for her to do that he needed her for? And what was that look that he had given her? She had not been able to make it out. It was different to the looks that he usually gave her which were a mixture of disdain and disgust. This was much softer. But perhaps she was imagining it, it was such harsh lighting and her eyes could not properly make out exactly what it was.

She did not know how long she sat there in the dark. Occasionally reaching out for another drink, her mind frantically searched for some way out. She sat not moving much, conserving her energy, until she got uncomfortable (or unbearably so) and then shifted position. She dismissed useless idea after useless idea and eventually she was left at a complete loss. Hating the darkness and her own stupidity for being in the situation in the first place, she began to cry again. Her stomach gave a loud rumble and she remembered how hungry she was. She had not eaten for hours before they went to the forest and now she was absolutely starving. She must have been in her prison at least a day now and she thought once again of Harry and Ron, they would be very worried about her, probably hatching some ill thought through rescue plan. She had spoken the truth when she said there was a spell for telling if your loved ones were still alive but she had no idea whether either of them had even heard of it, let alone knew it. Hermione wondered if they thought her alive or not, but she knew for certain that they would come and get her. For the first time she dared entertain the possibility that they would succeed; they could overpower Malfoy and probably his family and other death eaters, somehow locate her and get her out of this. But even as Hermione hoped, she knew it was ludicrous; the Manor was probably spelled so much that it was virtually impenetrable except by dark means and she knew that Harry and Ron would not use dark magic, even when they were in the gravest of danger. And they did not even know that she had been taken by Malfoy, so how in Dumbledore's name were they going to find her in the first place? No, that was not going to happen. So the only solution was that she got out before they came for her. But how was she going to do that? The same thoughts came to her as before, with nothing remotely useful buried amongst them, she just kept going in circles. After a while she lay down and curled herself up tightly, wrapped up in the blanket and fell asleep.


	4. An idea

Hermione's sleep was fitful at best. The floor was so hard that it was getting painful, despite the blanket she was pitifully cold, her stomach ached for food and her mind would not switch off. The events of the forest replayed over and over in her head as she analysed every detail of them, wondering where they had gone wrong and why on earth she had not disapparated out of there while she had had the chance. She was haunted by the memory of her parents, how they had had no idea what was happening to them; they had been tortured for information and then cruelly murdered while Hermione had been away. She had thought that they would be safe, that she could protect them, but she had been arrogant and it had cost her her parents. When she thought of them it made her shudder and more tears leaked from her eyes, pouring down her face and onto the ground making it muddy.

Suddenly Hermione had an idea. She knew that she could not get out through the door, walls or ceiling, but what about the floor? Surely there were no floors below this one and hadn't Malfoy said that he was not coming back? The floor seemed to be made of dry compacted dirt so if she could just make it wet was it possible that she could somehow tunnel her way out of there? She sat up and reached out for the glass of water and poured it onto the floor, waited a moment and then poured it out again. She must have done it about ten times and then put the glass down. Hermione could feel the water seeping into her shoes and socks and her jeans, making her almost unbearably cold, but she hoped that more was seeping into the floor. Getting on her knees, she started digging at the floor with her nails. The dirt started shifting and she felt a thrill of anticipation run through her. Pouring more water on with one hand, and digging with the other, she felt that this, at last, might be the way out. She dug and dug, not waiting for the water to properly sink in, breaking finger nails and making her fingers so excruciatingly agonising that she had to take breaks, but she was reluctant to do that for too long; she needed to get out of there as quickly as she could. After hours and hours, Hermione had to admit to herself that she needed a real break and without thinking about it much, fell quickly asleep.

She awoke with fresh tears dampening her face and the fading images of Harry and Ron disappearing from her mind. It did not take her long to remember what she had been doing and, feeling for the small hole that she had created, began to dig again. No sooner had she started, however, she had to stop, her fingers were extremely tender and felt swollen, all her nails were broken and the mud that had been forced up under them made the tips of her fingers throb. As if wrapping the blanket more tightly around her would somehow make her hands hurt less, she pulled the blanket around her as closely as she could and, taking a deep breath, began to dig again.

Over the next she knew not how long, Hermione scraped away at the dirt of the floor. She took frequent breaks, sometimes just for a sip of water and sometimes because she simply could not go on any longer. The new hope seemed to give her a renewed burst of energy and she felt that this, finally, might work. The Malfoy family doubtlessly expected people to break out using all sorts of kinds of magic and the room was probably protected against it, but she felt that it was highly likely that they had overlooked this simple thing. This would work, this _had_ to work; she had run out of all options. So she kept on digging. By the time that she fell asleep once more, the whole was as large in diameter as her and as deep as half her arm was long.

She woke up, shivering, to discover that she had thrown her blanket from her and was drenched in cold sweat; her skin stung where she was damp from the perspiration because the air was so icy. She quickly pulled the blanket back around her and instinctively reached out for the water, but she couldn't find it. Quickly becoming panicked, she sat up and swept her arm along the ground in frantic search of the beaker but it was to no avail. Her mind raced; highly alarmed that she was unable to locate the glass. She crawled on her hand and knees all around the very small room, but it was not anywhere and then she suddenly remembered that she had left it in the whole. Breathing a sigh of relief as she pulled the water out of the hole and her one life line was returned to her, she took a sip and allowed herself to calm down. And then the events of her dream came flooding back to her. She was locked in the cell, only now there was a little light, a _very_ little but some nonetheless, everything was so dark but she could make out the walls and there was a figure standing in front of her. He laughed cruelly and flicked his wand and in front of Hermione had appeared a loaf of bread, which she had grabbed hungrily and began to eat, but the more she ate the more hungry she because until her stomach became so painful she felt as if a dagger had been driven into her. She looked up at the figure but could not make out the face and as she looked down at her stomach she could see a deep red patch spreading across her stomach. She screamed. And then the room was light and bright and next to her were Harry and Ron and they looked worse than she did. In front of her was the same figure as before but this time she was left in no doubt as to whom he was. Malfoy. And he was saying something but Hermione couldn't quite make it out, something about You-Know-Who.

She shuddered with the memory and glanced down at her stomach to make sure it wasn't bleeding but of course this did no good as she was unable to see anything so she felt it just in case. It was not bleeding but it was certainly painful, almost tender, and groaning in emptiness. Hermione could only guess how long she had been in here, three days at most? The hole was taking a disproportionate amount of time to dig, could she manage to dig it within a week, and before Harry and Ron found out where she was? Feeling a renewed sense of purpose Hermione once again set about ignoring the immense pain and digging the hole.


	5. Despair

Another day she dug for until she could hardly reach the bottom of the hole when she was lying with her stomach flat on the floor. She could no longer feel her fingers and her head was now throbbing with lack of food, the only thing keeping her going was the hope of escape. She scrabbled at the bottom of the hole very slowly; all her energy went into just keeping going. Inching forward on her stomach, she tried to get a better reach on the bottom of the hole as she was struggling to make much headway. The texture of the earth she was scraping at had changed now and was much harder and no matter how much water she poured on, none would go in and loosen it. After a little while she wondered if it was ever going to shift but she quickly derailed that train of thought, not being ready to accept the possibility. But eventually she was forced to face the realisation that she had to stop; the floor was impenetrable and without magic there was nothing she could do.

Suddenly Hermione forgot her aching arms, her bone-tiredness and her insufferable headache and sprung to her feet with a scream of fury and despair, she found the door and pounded against it with her fists as loudly as she could. Tears streamed down her face as she screamed and pounded. Such a noise was she making that she did not hear the approaching footsteps and when the door was flung open she was thrown backwards and landed in the hole, letting out a cry of agony.

"What the hell do you think you are doing, Granger?" Malfoy growled and, seeing Hermione stuck in the hole, stormed over and pulled her out, flinging her onto the ground next to it. He glanced at the hole and then stared at her, taking in her shocking appearance and trying to survey the situation. "Was that your little plan?" he sneered, "dig your way out? And when that didn't work you lost your temper?"

The light that he had was so bright, she could barely see; her eyes were watering profusely and she could barely sit up. Her mind had almost shut down; all her energy had gone into digging the whole and she had no energy left to think up a suitable retort so she simply remained silent.

"Didn't I tell you to stay quiet? Do you _really_ think I did that just for my benefit? What do you think will happen if my parents find out you are here? Do you _really_ think that they will deign to have you in the house?" he was now pacing around the tiny room, his wand held aloft, now and again glancing at Hermione as if waiting for her to say something and interrupt him but she had nothing to say and so said nothing. "Father would have certainly killed you, either himself or even given you to the Dark Lord. And you wouldn't have wanted that Granger, you might think that here is bad but facing him is a hundred times worse. He has magic that you can only dream of." Malfoy had come to sit next to her, leaning up against the wall and reached out to take her hand, only becoming conscious of it when he felt her snatch it away violently. He jumped up, flustered, and stared down at her, trying to sort out the mix of emotions he was feeling.

Hermione, who did not understand what had just happened, did not even try to make sense of the situation; she was exhausted and her spirit had been broken. She sat there, propped up against the wall with her head in her hands. Before she knew what was happening, one of her arms was being pulled upwards and a loaf of bread was being thrust into her hands. She looked at it and then back up at Malfoy, uncomprehending, but she did not have the energy to wonder if it was spelled or poisoned or in some other way dangerous, she was simply starving; she broke a small piece off, chewed slowly and then carefully swallowed. Her throat was dry and very painful and her common sense told her that she would be sick if she ate too much too quickly but her hunger took over and she ate the loaf as quickly as she could. Hermione was conscious of the fact that Malfoy was standing over her and although she did not look up, she could feel his grey eyes boring down on her.

"Why?" she asked, still not looking up.

"You look horrendous, Granger," he replied and left without any explanation. At his words, she did finally raise her head to look at him but all she could make out was the silhouette of his back. The door closed behind him and darkness once again reigned supreme.

Hermione was left pondering the meaning of his words and actions. What had been the point of him giving her food? She must have been down there for at least four days; did he really not think that she could survive for another three? And why did he care what she looked like? Was it just another thing to make her feel worse? But he should have known that she would not care what she looked like at that moment. She was surprised at the lack of consequences he had shown for disobeying his commands; he had threatened her to keep her quiet but when she had made a noise he had seemed more upset than angry and what had been her punishment? Food.

She groaned as her stomach came to terms with the fact that food was once again inside it, she could hear it growling loudly in the otherwise deathly silence and rested her hand on it, feeling it gurgle unhappily. Before she knew what was happening, she was bent over and throwing up violently. Sitting back, she tried to control her irrepressible shivering. She drew her blanket more tightly around her but they would not abate and the more she shivered the more she began to feel ill and eventually she threw up again.

After the fourth time this happened, Hermione crawled away from the mess and lay down on the floor, completely exhausted, and fell asleep.


	6. A shock

Hermione awoke with a start to find that Malfoy was back and wore a look of utter disgust on his face. "This place is a shit hole, Granger." She looked at him blankly, not knowing at all what she should, or could, say.

Malfoy bent over and pulled her up roughly and, holding her tightly by her arm, dragged him out of the room after him. He proceeded to lead her along the corridor and up the stairs, back the way she was going. Hermione vaguely wondered what was happening, could this be the end? Should she try to escape? But she knew it was hopeless; there was absolutely no way that he was going to let her and even if she did by some miracle manage to get away for a few moments, she certainly did not have the energy to get anywhere and she had no idea where her wand was.

Feeling very dizzy indeed, she allowed herself to be led up the two flights of stairs and along the corridor. Before she knew it, she was ascending the sweeping staircase in the grand entrance hall and then she walked along a carpeted hallway, coming to a halt in front of a pair of large mahogany doors which Malfoy pushed open to reveal what Hermione could only assume was his bedroom. The ceiling was extremely high and the walls were a dark green but what immediately struck her was the huge four poster bed directly in front.

But Hermione had less energy than she realised, and before she could even sit down, she swayed and fainted.

When she came to, Hermione was completely disorientated; she was lying a very soft chez longue, covered over in a warm and clean blanket. Blinking several times at the light that came flooding in through the window, she tried to make sense of her surroundings and suddenly remembered that Malfoy had moved her. Her head pounding, she tried to sit up but was prevented by a hand on her shoulder.

"Just lie still, Granger, I don't want you fainting again."

"Why have you brought me here?" she asked weakly.

He walked to his large window and looked out. "Father was beginning to suspect something, especially after the noise you made with your little tantrum last night. It was no longer safe for-" he stopped suddenly. "He would have found you sooner rather than later. But here… this room is so heavily spelled he cannot hear or see anything that goes on and he certainly cannot enter this room. He will never suspect that I would hide anything in here, so for now it is here you will remain." Turning to look at her he continued, "This is my room, few have had the privilege of being inside. Don't touch anything and don't even bother trying to run away; this room is spelled not to let anyone but me out." He walked towards her and with a flick of his wand he conjured a tray of easily digestible food. "Eat it more slowly this time, Granger, maybe this time you can avoid making yourself ill."

Malfoy sat on the end of his bed, watching as Hermione slowly ate the food, one small piece at a time, and sipped the water. When she was finished, she lay back down slowly, praying that she would soon feel better and that her head would stop its incessant pounding.

After half an hour or so she began to feel better, she felt as if the thick mist in her brain was clearing and she sat up carefully to find that Malfoy was still looking at her, or rather he was looking in her direction but it seemed as if he was watching something miles away. "Right Granger, you need a shower; you absolutely stink and if I have to put up with you living in my room then I am certainly not going to have you smelling. Follow me."

Hermione got shakily to her feet and made her way across the plush carpet towards a concealed door. She became aware that she was no longer wearing her shoes; Malfoy must have taken them off when he lay her down on the sofa. He opened the door to reveal his bathroom. It was tiled in large black tiles, floor to ceiling. The floor was also black and the ceiling a crisp white. In the left corner stood a large shower with a massive silver shower head and next to that was a roll-top bathtub. On the wall nearest to her were a huge frosted glass basin and a toilet. All the accessories were polished silver and a few candles floated, giving the bathroom a strange glow. Malfoy motioned to one of the towel racks, on which hung a couple of black towels. "You can use them. Take your time." He left and shut the door behind her.

Hermione gazed around the decadent bathroom and caught sight of herself in the mirror. At first she did not recognise herself; it had been a very long time since she had gazed upon her own reflection. Her hair had become very long and wild, she could see on her dirty face where cuts were healing and spotted a large bruise on her chin. Her lips were cracked and stained, her eyes red and puffy and below the dirt she could see how pale she had become. Her clothes were unrecognisable and decidedly looser on her than they had been; what had once been a light pink jumper was now a brown, stained and ripped item of clothing. She could see where the cut on her shoulder had tried to heal but had been pulled open again and where the blood had stained her jumper anew. Looking down she spotted that her arms were cut and grazed, especially her hands, and her fingertips looked ruined. They were purple with bruising and she what little finger nails she had left were black with dirt. Her once light jeans were now brown and caked in mud. There were huge rips at the knees, through which she could see that her legs were heavily cut and bruised; there was a particularly nasty gash on her left knee. Her feet, however, apart from being very dirty was surprisingly undamaged and had been well protected by her decent shoes. She remembered what her mother had always said; look after your feet in good shoes, sighing she wiped a tear from her face.

She undressed quickly and carefully, trying to avoid scraping the fabric against her wounds. She stepped into the shower and closed the door after her, glancing around, she found that she could not locate the controls. Then she remembered that this was perhaps not surprising as this was a wizard's bathroom and suddenly she felt a jet of water hit her, making her gasp. It was just the right temperature; not too hot and not too cold and wonderfully pressurised. Hermione let the water wash over her, almost as if the water was washing away all her troubles and she stayed like that for a very long time; at one point she did not know if she was crying or if it was just all the water. Having found the soap, she delicately scrubbed herself, painstakingly retrieving the dirt from all over her body and then she meticulously washed her hair, twice, to make sure it was thoroughly clean.

When she felt completely clean, the shower stopped and she stepped out onto the soft shower mat and, having grabbed the towels, began to dry herself. In the far corner Hermione spotted that some fresh robes had been put out for her along with, to her embarrassment, clean underwear. She dressed in the clean clothes and tried to rub her hair dry.

She nervously left the bathroom, not sure what was going to happen next – she knew that her time was nearly up. Malfoy was lounging on his massive bed reading when she entered his bedroom. He looked up when he heard her and took in her appearance in a way that made her feel almost uncomfortable, "I was beginning to think you had drowned. You clean up well."

Hermione did not reply, had he just paid her a compliment? She looked around the room. "You are decidedly untalkative, Granger. I must admit I _was _ expecting a little more resistance," Malfoy said, smirking and still looking at her intently, "you can sit back over there," he added motioning to the chez longue she had been sitting on previously.

Malfoy went back to his book and Hermione sat down on the seat and was left to her thoughts. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, she had to know what future lay in store for her, "What is going on Malfoy?" she asked quietly.

Malfoy shut his book and sat up, the better to look at her. "I told you, Granger. Father will never suspect you are here."

"Please don't insult my intelligence, Malfoy. I am sure there is somewhere else that you could have put me for just a couple of days. And if you really do intend to only give me a week," Malfoy changed his expression for just an instant at her words and Hermione was not sure if she had imagined it, "why bother giving me food? Or making me shower? Or giving me clothes?"

"Once again Granger, if you had been listening, I have already explained all this. I have to live with you and you were unbearable."

Hermione noticed that he avoided the other questions but she was not going to let this one drop. "Don't give me that!" she snapped, "We were taught the smell block smell in fourth year! It's not particularly difficult, I doubt even you would have too much trouble with it."

"Careful Granger, remember your life is in my hands."

She jumped to her feet, "you are going to kill me in three days even if I stay silent, so why should I?" She made her way over to him. "Tell me what is going on Malfoy!"

He stood up and walked over to meet her. Planting his feet either side of hers, he put his hands up to her face and pulled it up slightly to look at him. Hermione opened her mouth to say something but before she could get any words out, his lips were on hers and he was kissing her. It took her a second or two to react but when she did, she jerked away from him and slapped him as hard across the face as he could. "What the hell do you think you are doing?!" she shouted and turned around, running towards the door. She was at the door when she remembered that he had told her that she would not be able to get out but she was travelling too fast to stop so she kept running. For a split second she thought that she would be able to keep going but then she was throw backwards across the room, before finally coming to land by Malfoy's feet.

He laughed, "didn't I warn you, Granger? Now don't touch anything, I will be back soon," and he left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

Hermione picked herself and rushed into the bathroom, throwing up in the sink all the food that she had managed to eat just a little while before. She rinsed her mouth out a few times and crawled back to the sofa, feeling extremely weak and shaky. She lay down and covered herself over with the blanket; searching his room was just going to have to wait 'til later – her wand was undoubtedly hidden somewhere here. But for now, she just had to try and recover. Hermione closed her eyes.


	7. The bookcase

"Bloody hell Granger; are you incapable or keeping _anything_ down?" Hermione opened her eyes to find that Malfoy was talking to her, his eyebrow raised. She left awful; a curious combination of sweaty, shaky and incredibly weak.

"Leave me alone," she muttered, closing her eyes again.

"Apparently I can't, look at yourself! Sit up," he ordered. Hermione did as she was told. "Right, drink this." He held out a glass of liquid and flicked his wand at it, spelling it to make rehydrate her. He put one hand on the back of her head and held the glass to her lips with the other but she wrenched her head out his grasp and grabbed the glass.

"I can manage!" she retorted indignantly but her hand was shaking so much that she would have spilt it had he not helped her.

"Clearly," he replied, helping her drink. She glared at him. "You're welcome," he said.

"What?! You want me to _thank_ you?? Let me see, you kept me in a freezing dungeon for days with no food and no light, only a glass of water. You are only keeping me here so that when my friends come you can kill them and then you are going to kill me. But _thanks sooo_ much for helping me drink!" she responded sarcastically.

Malfoy was red in the face with anger. He paced his room. "You are up here now Granger. It is warm and clean, I am trying to give you food but you reject it! You have clean clothes and something soft to lie on!"

"Oh, well that is just _great_."

"Do you want me to put you back down there?"

"If it means being away from you, yes!"

"Well, that is just tough! You are just going to have to put up with me because this is where you are now and where you are going to stay!"

"For how long?!"

"For as long as it takes!"

"Takes for what? The week to finish?!"

"Not anymore Granger, for as long as it takes Potter and Weasley to find you. Apparently I was overestimating them when I said it should only be a week."

Hermione was temporarily struck speechless, so this wasn't all going to be over in a matter of a few days? She may be here for a lot longer than that.

"So you are going to have to eat something and keep it down sometime soon. You are skin and bones already."

Hermione did not say anything. He may have spared his life for now but he was still killing her and her friends at some point. And there he was, standing by his window, _smiling_ at her!

"What did you kiss me for?" she asked, after a lengthy pause.

He did not answer but once again conjured some food for her. "Eat!"

Hermione had managed to keep her food down for hours and was now lying on the sofa, lost in her thoughts. She had managed to come up with no amazing escape plan as of yet but was still desperately working on it. Feeling much better than before, she stood up but had to clutch her head as the blood rushed it and she swayed slightly. Malfoy had been out when she had finished eating and was still too weak to explore but now he was back and was once again reading on his bed. She wondered over to the huge window from which she could see the grounds of Malfoy Manor. It was very large and very grand; the sun was setting in the distance, making the sky and fiery orange and casting a glow on the woods that made up the grounds in the further away. Closer to the house was a large and stately garden. Huge hedges marked the perimeter and a large fountain with a surrounding pond lay in the middle. The fountain was shaped like wizards and Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that they were Malfoys. There was no colour in the garden, despite the fact that it was spring; all the plants there were were a dark green. The lawn was perfectly manicured and a few benches were spread throughout it. Hermione sighed; it was a far cry from her familiar back garden and certainly from that of the Burrow – she doubted that _they_ had a garden gnome problem.

She turned away from the window and found that she was facing the bookshelf, which she was drawn to; after all it had been rather a long time since she had perused unfamiliar books. She walked over to it and started examining book titles. Some books she recognised, either because she had read them or because she had heard about them. The books at the bottom were full of dark magic and she paid little head to them but many she did not know. These books were foreign to her and therefore exciting; she could feel her fingers tingling as she died to begin reading and absorbing new information. She reached out to one and then remembered that she had been forbidden to touch anything. She quickly turned around to see that Malfoy was watching her, very amused.

"I wondered how long it would take you to find the bookshelf, Granger."

"Can I look at a few," and after a small pause she added, "please."

"Well I don't know. Why should I let you?"

"Malfoy, I am going to go crazy if you keep me here with nothing to do."

"I can think of plenty to do."

"Like what?!"

Malfoy walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist he smirked.

But Hermione flung his arms away from her and backed away. "Don't touch me," she said softly.

He took another step towards her and, putting his hand under her chin, he stroked her face with his thumb. Hermione tried to push him away, her hands on his chest. "Or what?" he asked.

She shuddered at his answer and she came to the realisation that she really couldn't do anything if he decided to take advantage. For some reason this scared her even more than his death threats had. The colour drained from her face and she dropped her arms to her side limply.

Malfoy suddenly let go of her and took a couple of steps backwards. "Fine," he said, his face red with fury, "take your pick of the books. Read whatever you like." He spun around and retreated back to his bed.

Hermione took a couple of deep, calming breaths, and turned to face the bookcase. Selecting a book at random, she pulled it off the shelf and sat down on the floor. She opened the book and began to read the first page but was unable to take much in; her mind was spinning with the events of the past two minutes. She did not know whether he would have done anything to her, she knew he had kissed her but would he go further than that? He seemed to have no qualms about killing innocent people so why not this? But even as Hermione thought that, her reason kicked in; he had bragged about it and threatened it but, when push came to shove, would he actually be able to kill? She simply did not know.

She felt more desperate than ever to find a way out of there and tried to look around the room without actually appearing to look away from her book. She was quite certain that Malfoy had got his whole room spelled that if she tried to look for her wand he would be alerted immediately and she did not want to risk it. She decided that the best idea would be to steal his wand. She knew, of course, that the wand would not work as well as her original one but she was sure that she could manipulate it enough to get out of there. On the pretence of moving to the chair, she glanced around the luxurious room to see if she could spot his wand and was surprised to find that it was not on his person but resting on the table beside his bed. She wondered if she would be able to snatch it now, but immediately dismissed the idea; it was within an arms length of Malfoy and he would easily be able to grab it if she approached. The sun was setting; surely he would go to sleep soon and when that happened she could take the wand.

Hermione settled herself on the chez longue again, and wrapped the blanket around her comfortingly. Yes, she would wait until he was fast asleep and then would take his wand. That having been decided, she was free to look study the book she had; it was a detailed history of the oldest of the pureblood families. She examined the family trees in the front and was not surprised when she found the name Malfoy. However, she also saw Weasley and felt a pang.

By the time she was reaching the end of the book, there was so little light in the room that she was struggling to read it. Afraid to ask for light, she simply closed the book, a chapter from the end, and lay down.

"You're right, Granger, it definitely is time for bed." Malfoy began to take off his robes, illuminated by the solitary candle on the table by his wand, and if he could have seen Hermione in the darkness, he would have seen that she was scarlet. She quickly looked away, embarrassed and pulled the blanket over her head. She heard him get into the bed and blowing out the candle.

Hermione kept her eyes open, trying to stay awake and ascertain when his breathing had become deep and regular enough for her to know that he was asleep. However, he did not seem to be a very heavy sleep; every time she thought he was asleep he would make a small noise and turn over. She tried her best, but she was shattered and simply could not stay awake, hoping that she would wake up in the middle of the night, she gave over to sleep.


	8. An escape

Hermione moaned at the level of sunshine in the room and glimpsed the clock. Her eyes flew wide open when she spied the time – it was midday! How could she possibly have slept so long? The fog of sleep was clearing as she remembered her plan for the previous night. How could she been so stupid as to have fallen asleep?? And not to wake up until midday – that was crazy! She sat up slowly and found that a tray of food and drink lay by her feet. Completely parched, she drank the water and ate the food slowly.

She was just wondering where Malfoy was when he came into his bedroom. He was wearing floor length black robes and carried in her hand the mask that Hermione thought she was never likely to forget. She did not know why, but the sight of him made her feel sick; he had obviously been to a meeting with other death eaters and although she knew he was holding her there and that he had threatened her, she felt ill when she remembered that he was in You-Know-Who's inner circle.

"Did you spell me to sleep last night?" she asked, thinking that it would explain why she still felt a little groggy and why she had slept in so late.

"You were moaning in you sleep, Granger," he replied, before grabbing some clean clothes and going to have a shower.

Hermione remembered her dreams; they had been the same ones that had been haunting her ever since she came here.

She stood up and immediately spied Malfoy's wand flung on his bed, underneath his mask. Now was her chance, now, finally, was the moment that she would be able to escape this place and find her friends. She ran across to the four-poster and reached out towards the mask. Suddenly she was hit with wave after wave of nausea and then as she reached further she felt as if she was being repeatedly stabbed in the gut. But Hermione knew these were just protection curses and pushed on through. When she touched the mask itself she let out a sob, she felt the most painful form of grief anyone can feel, it was as if all her closest friends and family being murdered in front of her eyes. And then she felt anger boil up inside her. Hermione flung the mask aside and quickly felt all the emotions that had instantaneously welled up inside her subside, but as she let go, the mask emitted a horrific noise. It was a cross between a scream and a screech and chilled her to her very bones. She grabbed the wand as the bathroom door tore open to reveal a half dressed Malfoy. Clutching the wand she spun and ran towards the door, screaming all the spells that she could think of that would permit her to exit the room. Hermione was not class swat for nothing and succeeded in crossing the threshold to the hall. She ran full pelt, conscious of the fact that Malfoy was chasing her, along the corridor and down the stairs.

She was nearing the bottom of the stairs when she saw the potential problem. Lucius Malfoy was standing in front of the front door. Holding her wand aloft, a curse began to form on her lips but she was too slow. "Expelliarmus!" Lucius yelled, pointing his wand directly at her. Her wand flew over to him and she was thrown backwards.

"Father…" Draco began, uncertainly.

"What is _she_ doing here? That _is_ Hermione Granger, is it not? Best friend of Harry Potter? Who we have been searching for this past year?"

"Yes Father, but I can explain-"

"I am not interested in you pathetic explanations!"

Hermione got shakily to her feet, wondering if she could take advantage of the situation, but she somehow doubted that they would be distracted enough with each other that they would not notice if she disappeared.

"You should kneel in my presence, mudblood!" Lucius Malfoy said, turning his attention on her and looking disgusted.

"No," she said quietly.

She kept her gaze fixed on the father but was aware of the younger looking at her intently.

"Crucio!" Lucius Malfoy yelled, pointing his wand at Hermione.

She dropped to the ground, screaming with the crippling agony. It was pain beyond anything she could imagine, she sobbed, begging against her will for it to stop as her body contorted into shapes it was never meant to.

When he lifted the curse, she lay on the ground, trying to control her sobs, and taking deep, steadying and calming breaths. She was vaguely aware that Draco was talking to his father, pleading with him to understand but she did not listen to much of it before she blacked out.


	9. Horror downstairs

Hermione was no longer in the hall, nor was she in Draco Malfoy's bedroom and she was not even in the little cell she had inhabited during the first period of her stay. This one was much larger and cleaner, it was nowhere near as cold and a little light filtered down through the ceiling. She clutched her head which was pounding and then remembered what had happened to get her there. She wondered briefly what had happened to Malfoy junior but was not left wondering for long; he was sitting in the darkened corner.

Seeing that she was conscious, he spoke, "Brilliant Granger, you have just made the situation ten times worse for the both of us!"

"What did you want me to do?" she retorted, "sit there, reading your books, not knowing what you were going to do to me at any moment."

He was quiet for a moment and when he answered it was clear that he had decided to just disregard her question. "I don't know what Father is going to do with you. I told him the truth, that I had kept you here to lure Potter and Weasel, but he was not impressed that I had not told him a week ago. I do not know how long we are likely to remain in here."

"What difference does it make? I don't care if I am in here or in your bedroom!"

Malfoy moved towards her so that the light falling from the ceiling illuminated his face. Hermione had to suppress a gasp at the sight of him; his left eye was yellow and black and swollen shut and his lip was split. His nose looked as if it had been broken and there was a large amount of dried blood on his face. "What happened?" she could not help but ask.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, seemingly surprised that she had asked the question, "I told you Father was not impressed."

Hermione felt a pang of sympathy but quickly squashed the feeling; Malfoy was getting what he deserved. "So how do we get out of here?"

"There is no way out."

"There must be some way."

"There isn't."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because I just know; it is family folk lore – this room is impenetrable. It was built to house the enemies of the Malfoy family and has done just that for hundreds of years. Some of them were supposedly brilliant witches and wizards; if they couldn't find a way out then we won't."

He saw her look around, studying her surroundings for any signs that somewhere there was an exit, but she could not even see the door. She did, however, spot a message written on one of the walls; it was written in what Hermione could only suppose was blood, dark brownish red in colour and read, "the end is nigh." She shuddered.

"So what are we going to do?" she asked.

"There is nothing that we _can_ do. When father has a use for us, he will come. But until that we are on our own."

She felt like strangling him. Her worry for Harry had increased exponentially; at least with Malfoy junior she had had her doubts that he could defeat Harry but she had no doubt that he did not stand a chance against Luscious Malfoy.

Hermione was dismayed to discover that she was crying. Cross with herself, she roughly wiped the tears from her face and sniffed loudly. Malfoy did not fail to notice this, "I hope you are not just going to cry for the whole time we are in here."

"I don't care!" she practically shouted, "I hate you! I can't believe what you did to me and what you were trying to do to Harry and Ron! You're a death eater and that is just disgusting! And now finally you are in the same situation as me and I don't care what you think anymore! You can't do anything!"

Malfoy face was red and his eyes had turned cold, "I would watch what you say Granger; we may be in the same room but we are _not_ in the same situation. You're a mudblood and will always be my inferior!"

Hermione's eyes opened wide in shock, she had thought that he was getting better, but maybe it had been wishful thinking. Before she realised it, both her wrists were enclosed in his hands and she was being kissed, hard. She could taste blood as his lip split back open and she was forced backwards onto the floor. She wanted to scream and hit but was powerless to do anything, no matter how much she tried to struggle, the weight of his body on top of hers was too much for her. His kisses were becoming harder and more frantic and Hermione felt repelled. How far was this going to go? She was truly terrified now and squirmed and writhed under him but could not get him away. After what seemed like an eternity he stopped, and pulled back off her. Breathing heavily he said, "there is plenty that I can do."

And having retreated back into the shadowy corner, he sat down and didn't say anything further.

Hermione was left reeling, horrified by what had just happened and what could happen. She had no idea how far he would go if pushed and surely as they spent more time in here, he would become angrier. She resolved to make as little noise as possible and just not remind him that she was there. So she moved into the opposite corner which was cast in shadow, lay down and tried to go to sleep as the light was fading.


	10. The need for warmth

A few hours later she had failed on two counts; she was not asleep and she was failing miserably at not making a sound. It was bitterly cold, nearly as cold as it had been in the room below this one but she did not have a blanket and the clean clothes that she had put on were even less warm than her old battered and torn ones. Consequently she was freezing, shivering violently and her teeth were chattering very loudly. She had tried to clamp her jaw shut but it was no good. Hermione did not miss the irony; when it had been colder and there was no one with her downstairs, her teeth had not made a sound.

"Cold Granger?"

She didn't respond.

"I bet you are wishing you had that blanket now." 

Still she did not reply.

After a while he broke the silence again, "Come here."

'No way' she thought but said nothing.

"Granger," he said, a little exasperated, "if you come here than we can share our body heat and then we will both be warmer."

Hermione was not impressed with that idea and didn't move.

Two hours later she was forced to reconsider; she was so cold now that her teeth were chattering to such an extent she wondered if they would shatter. Her head throbbed and she had lost feeling in her exposed feet, her fingers tingled. All she could think about was how cold she was and how much warmer it would be if they huddled like penguins do in the Antarctic. But the thought of coming so close to him filled him with dread. In the end though she had no choice.

She stood up slowly and walked over to him, and sat down nearby. For a while she wondered if he were sleeping because he did not move or seem to acknowledge her presence. Closer to, she could see that he was shivering; "Come to your senses?"

Saying nothing she scooted closer to him.

Ten minutes later she found herself in a situation she never would have dreamed of two hours ago. She was sitting between his legs and was leaning against his front, his arms wrapped around her waist. She was certainly warmer; he was like a hot water bottle compared to her and it was surprisingly comfortable.

She did not know how long they sat like that, but now she was getting sleepy and her eyes closed of their own accord.

"Granger," Malfoy said softly, "Granger, I'm sorry."

"For what?" she said roughly, anger building up inside her at the memory of earlier. "Kidnapping me? Kissing me? Threatening to do more? Threatening to kill me? Trying to kill my friends?"

There was a very long pause before he replied, so long that she thought he wasn't going to but eventually she heard his voice, "I don't know whether I could have ever _truly_ harmed you. I tried to lock you up and just forget about you, but I couldn't. Father saw that weakness in me and is uninterested in having a son like that."

She raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean by that?"

"I thought you were supposed to be the clever one, Granger, what do you _think_ I meant by that?"

Hermione glared but as she was not facing him of course he could not see it so she said, "So you just thought you were assert your authority over me? Just to make yourself feel better?" As soon as she said it she knew she had spoken the truth, she could feel that he had tensed and that his grip on her had loosened somewhat.

"I'm sorry; I should never have done it."

"You've got that one right!"

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

She was not sure what to reply; this _did_ seem like a sincere apology but could she really trust him? How did she know this wasn't some elaborate plan? And besides, she had been so scared that he was going to rape her! A simple sorry (or three) certainly did not solve that! Even though she didn't want to admit it, she was afraid of him and his humbleness puzzled her; it just seemed so out of character and she found it hard to trust it. But now… now she was exhausted and needed to sleep.


	11. A revelation

When Hermione woke up she found that she and Malfoy were spooning; they were both lying down, their bodies fitting together like spoons in the cutlery drawer and his arm was around her waist, gently resting on her stomach and her hand was over the top of his. How they had ended up in this position she wasn't quite sure but she enjoyed the comforting-ness of it until she remembered exactly with whom she was spooning.

Now it was light, the room was much less cold than it had and Hermione did not see much point in staying unbearably close when she did not need to. She picked up his hand and removed his arm from her with perhaps a little more force than was required and shifted away from him. As she moved away she felt the loss of his body heat and missed it, but she knew that she could cope without it, at least until that evening, and she would rather be as far away from him as was possible.

Her moving seemed to wake him up because he stirred slightly and then rubbed his eyes, trying to sit up, "Why did you move? I was warm."

"I wasn't cold anymore," she replied.

"Well, neither was I, but we soon will be again, come back."

"No thanks, I would rather take my chances with the temperature."

"Don't be stupid, come back."

Hermione decided the best policy at this point would just be to not say anything, so that is what she did.

For most of the day they sat in silence, each one lost in their own contemplations. Hermione was thinking about her childhood, about even before she had found out that she was a witch, she thought about her parents and felt a dull ache in her heart. She missed them so much and found it hard to imagine what life was going to be like without them, once this was all over. If it ever finished. What real future did she have? She had thrown away the last year of her education and would never get her NEWTs. Without them she couldn't become a teacher which had been her ideal profession. Perhaps she could get some job in the ministry? But what, she had no idea. If worst came to worst she guessed she could always be the conductor on the Knight's bus or the maid at the Leaky Caldron. Hermione did not fail to notice the irony; she was worrying about her future now that she was not sure that she had one.

"Is this what is going to happen? Are we just going to remain in silence the whole time we are stuck in here?" Malfoy asked, a hint of exasperation in his voice, around midday.

'Yes' she thought but did not feel the need to voice it out loud.

"Come on, Granger."

Still she said nothing.

"Granger?"

She snapped, "I have nothing to say to you!"

"Fine, I'll talk then," he paused. "When I was growing up I wasn't given a choice what to think, in fact it never even occurred to me that I wouldn't think it. My parents taught me that as purebloods, and especially as Malfoys, we _were_ the elite. We were the ones that deserved the best schools, houses, jobs etc etc and anyone who was not like us was just detracting from what we could have. People who didn't marry purebloods were blood traitors and were just as bad as mud-" he stopped himself, "as muggleborns. We were superior in everyway and they were hardly fit to wipe the mud from our shoes."

"You can't blame all this on your upbringing; you have a mind of your own don't you? But of course, why _should_ you go against it? If you were brought up to think you were better than everyone else, why _would_ you rebel?"

"When I was eight, I made friends with a muggle. He was called Peter and lived down in the village. I thought it was immensely entertaining that he didn't believe in magic and I spent many hours telling him all about it; he of course thought that I was just making up stories. We spent a whole summer playing together until my father found out." She heard him take a deep breath. "He was disgusted; that I had lowered myself to playing with a mere muggle was repulsive to him. He beat me so hard that I still bear the scars on my backside. Father told me that I should never_ ever_ lower myself to that level again, that I was disgracing the ancient name of Malfoy and I should learn how to conduct myself." He paused once again and Hermione wondered if he expected her to say something, offer her condolences perhaps? It was a sob story; she wasn't going to be sucked in by it.

"So I went off to Hogwarts, convinced of my supremacy over almost all others. I was sorted into Slytherin where I made friends with like minded people. It did not occur to me that I should not be the superior to all others. And at Hogwarts I met you; you were a muggleborn and yet were far more intelligent than any pureblood I had ever met and I could not understand it. At the end of the year you came top in everything and consequently beat me. Father was horrified that I had let you do that and..." she heard him swallow, "that was the first time he put me under the cruciatus curse."

Hermione was speechless; she had been the cause of such agony, all her muscles still ached from when she had experienced it just yesterday. It had always given her some degree of satisfaction that she had beaten Malfoy in everything and it was no secret that his father was distinctly unimpressed, but she had had no idea how far his displeasure had gone. The thought of it made her feel sick.

"After that my hatred for you increased. And to top it all off your two friends were Weasley, son of a muggle-lover and none other than the famous Harry Potter. Potter, who flounces into school and everyone adores him just because he is _famous_ for something he had no control over and can't even remember!" The same hatred that Malfoy had felt for Harry when they were eleven was now evident in his voice. "And so it was natural that when I came back in the second year I should think of you as something so below me, as a mudblood. My father used the term many times over the summer preceding that year and became common parlance in our household; it was what you were rather than being an insult per se."

"If you are trying to explain away everything, you are not doing a very good job," Hermione said, bristling at the word mudblood and the remembered pain it had caused five years ago.

"But don't you see, Granger? I am just trying to explain why I am the way that I am; why I thought that I was better than everyone else."

"Fine, I get it. Your parents told you that you were great so you believed them."

"Yes, but it was more than that. I _had_ to think like they did, to hold the same opinions as they do or I would suffer the consequences. When they thought that I should get a girl friend, I got Pansy and when the Dark Lord came to power…" he broke off.

"You became a Death Eater," Hermione finished for him. "Let me guess, you didn't have a choice?"

"You always have a choice, Granger. But I chose not to defy my parents and risk everything. I chose to become a Death Eater and do His bidding. And now," his voice had lowered to a barely audible whisper, "I choose to carry out his orders or I would choose my own death." He was quiet a long time, "and now I'm stuck."

Hermione had no idea what to say. In the space of about ten minutes her opinion of someone she had loathed so completely for nearly seven years had completely changed. She could not believe that she was admitting this but she felt sorry for him; genuinely sorry. She had no words of comfort to offer him, nothing she could think to say could possibly make the situation better. So what could she do? He seemed so helpless and vulnerable in a way she had never seen before and it heightened her need to help him even more.

Hermione rose quickly to her feet, regretting it a second later as she swayed from lack of food, and walked over to him. Wordlessly she sat down next to him, leaning against the wall and put her arm around his chest a little awkwardly. Putting his arm around his shoulders, he pulled her tightly to him in a warm embrace.

_Author's note: Okay guys, I never meant for this story to go quite so much but I just can't stop writing it... Bear with me, I have a good ending but it might just take a while to get there! I hope you're not finding it too slow... I am going for character development rather than bang bang story over :) _


	12. Humiliation

They sat like that for a long time. Hermione listened to his rhythmic heartbeat and felt his chest slowly rising and falling at his steady breathing. "When we get out," she said softly, "you can come with me and Harry and Ron. You don't have to do this anymore; you can fight with us and help us win the war."

She felt rather than heard him sigh but he didn't say anything, he just pulled her to him a little tighter.

After a while, Hermione spoke. "My parents, they were killed. Tortured for information and then murdered…" She jerked away from him, a horrible thought occurring to her. "Oh my God… you didn't…" she could barely ask the question. She didn't know how she would be able to cope with the information if he answered yes, her eyes bored into his, almost pleading him to say no.

He shook his head, looking deep into her eyes, and said in a gentle voice Hermione had never heard before, "I heard about that Granger, but no, it wasn't me."

She leant her head back against his chest as tears welled up in her eyes. They spilled over and made the front of his robes damp. He must have known she was crying, Hermione thought, but he didn't mention it; he stroked her long hair soothingly and let her cry. "I wasn't there at the time," she whispered, "I was off with Harry and Ron. I cast a few spells of protection and thought that that would be fine. It never really occurred to me that the death eaters would come after my parents." She broke off as a sob threatened to overwhelm her. "I was much more concerned with Harry, Ron and my own safety, I thought we were much more at threat and so I concentrated more on us. It was stupid and selfish and arrogant of me."

"You didn't know," he answered quietly.

"I should have known! It was so obvious that it was going to happen. If only I had spent an extra half an hour on their protection, I could have saved them and all the pain that they went through. If only I had not been so self-absorbed. If only…" she was unable to continue, so overcome with grief was she.

Malfoy rubbed her back as she wept, "There was nothing you could have done. Even if you had been there or had spent an extra two days on protection spells. The death eaters have ways and means of penetrating all but the most powerful of those spells," he whispered. "It was Bellatrix Lestrange who did it. You would not have stood a chance. Don't blame yourself, it wasn't your fault."

"They were innocent, they didn't know anything; hardly knew there was a dark side of magic, and I was careful not to tell them anything about where we were going or what we were doing. They could have told her nothing. They were tortured and murdered for nothing other than they were my parents, how can you say it wasn't my fault?" Hermione felt fresh tears pour down her face.

"Hermione, listen to me. There was nothing you could have done; no way could you have saved them."

Hermione stopped crying abruptly at the sound of her name. She had never heard him call her that and it surprised her immensely. She lifted her head off his chest so that she could look at him properly, "What did you call me?"

He smiled slightly and rested his hand lightly on her cheek, wiping away a tear. "Hermione," he murmured.

The next thing she knew, he was kissing her. This time she did not feel the immediate revulsion that she had on the previous occasions, this kiss was gentler, comforting and did not imply that something else was to follow. She felt herself responding to it, kissing back with equal tenderness.

They flew apart as the door was flung open. Hermione felt a cold breeze and could see Lucius Malfoy framed in the doorway. With a look of revulsion on his face at what he had just witnessed, he said much more calmly than Hermione expected, "Draco? What exactly are you doing?"

She saw him rearrange his features into the all too familiar sneer she had grown to know and hate and glance over in her direction. "Father, there is nothing to do down here."

"So you thought that you would entertain yourself with _that_?" he asked.

He gave a half laugh, "Father, I am eighteen. I have needs. She may be a mudblood but she's something to do."

Malfoy senior raised an eyebrow but did not question him further. For the first time he looked over in Hermione's direction, he walked over to her until he was little more than half a metre away. "Where is Harry Potter?" he asked.

She shook her head, "I don't know," she answered quietly.

"Not good enough, Miss Granger," he replied menacingly. "I'll give you one more chance. Where is he?"

"I don't know," she repeated, a little more strongly.

She was shocked when this reply was not followed up with some kind of pain-inducing curse. All he said was, "This isn't the end, mudblood." And, turning back to Draco ordered him to come with him.

Draco got up and without so much as a backwards glance left the room after his father, shutting the door securely behind him.

Hermione was left alone in the cold, dark room, the events of the past five minutes flying around her brain. He had called her Hermione and kissed her, and what a kiss it had been! But then, practically in the next sentence he had called her a mudblood and referred to her as a piece of meat. She couldn't believe it, she had stupidly thought that he had changed, that they understood each other, that he was going to start standing up for himself but as soon as his father appeared he turned into that detestable little creature he had always been. _"Father, I am eighteen. I have needs. She may be a mudblood but she's something to do." _It made her feel nauseated.

It grew late and turned dark in the cell. Once again Hermione tried to curl up and keep herself warm but she was so cold and could do nothing but shiver. She wished, just for a moment, Malfoy was back in there with her, if only to keep her warm. Her mother had always said to be careful what you wish for and ironically the next moment the door was opened.

"Hermione?" he whispered.

She sat up, "we're back to that now are we?" she asked, roughly.

He knelt in front of her, "You know what I said to my father I didn't mean. You know I had to do it," he responded.

"'She may be a mudblood but she's something to do,' you _had_ to say that?"

She could make out his wince in the darkness, "I'm sorry, it just came out. I didn't mean it. You know that."

"I don't know what I know."

"Granger," Hermione did not miss the switch back to her last name, "look, I'm sorry, okay? I don't have much time. I just came to bring you this." He handed her the blanket that he had given her before along with a tray of food and water.

"Fine, go then," she said ungratefully, taking what he offered and already taking a sip of water.

He got up to go, "I'll be back soon," and left.

She did not know what he had done to the blanket, enchanted it in some way she supposed, because it was as warm as a hot water bottle. She wrapped it around her and lay back, feeling the warmth penetrate her freezing body. It was comforting in a way that she thought Draco Malfoy probably wouldn't have been at this point. She just didn't know what to make of him; he had said that he hadn't meant those hurtful things but did she believe him? At the best he was a lying coward and at the best a two-faced manipulative ferret.

Hermione ate the food he had given her slowly, she had learnt from her mistakes, until it was finished. Her throat was very dry and her mouth parched; she was very glad for the water that he had given her. Her thoughts turned to possible means of escape, would he eventually come and get her out of there? And when that happened, would he let her escape? Or could she fight him? He had said that he didn't think he could ever truly hurt her so if she put up enough of a fight maybe he would just let her go? Somehow she had to find a way out of this place, preferably before Malfoy senior came back, as she was sure he would, to question her further. Or perhaps he would send another Death Eater?

Hermione certainly did not expect him to send his son but that is just what he did.


	13. Agony

The next morning Hermione looked up when she heard the door creak open. It was Malfoy again, carrying a small tray of food. He sat on the floor in front of Hermione, placing the tray between them.

She sat up and tore off a small chunk of bread which she ate hungrily. She picked up the goblet which was also on the tray and drank from it, surprised to find sweet pumpkin juice rather than just plain water. Looking more closely at the tray, she spied half a grapefruit as well as plain yoghurt on cereal. It was not traditional fare, "What is all this?" she asked.

"My breakfast, thought you might be hungry."

Rather than replying, she dug into her grapefruit and kept her attention focused on that.

He had to break the silence after she had finished that and moved onto her yoghurt and cereal. "Father sent me here."

She looked up curiously.

"He wants me to get out of you where Potter is."

"Malfoy," Hermione said seriously, "I was telling the truth, I really don't know." The fact that she had an inkling as to where they might be was neither here nor there.

"Well, what am I supposed to tell my father?"

"I don't know! Tell him whatever you want. Do you really think that I would ever tell you, even if I did know?"

He shook his head as he stood up. "What should I do, Granger?" he began pacing, "Father is expecting me to get information out of you, anyway I can, just for some scrap of information, no matter how useful," he knelt back in front of her, "What do I do?" he pleaded.

"I really don't know," his helplessness scared her somewhat and she didn't have any answers for him. "I don't have anything to tell you."

Suddenly the door opened and Lucius Malfoy appeared, "Well Draco?"

He stood up to face his father, "She doesn't know anything father."

"Draco Draco Draco, you have so much to learn and I am trying to teach you, but I must admit that you are trying my patience somewhat," he said coolly.

"Father, if she doesn't know anything then she can't tell us anything."

"Draco, her and her little buddies have been travelling around for months together. They will have made plans, discussed ideas and I am sure that she is the brains behind it. No, she knows something. She just needs… persuasion."

"Persuasion?"

"Veritaserum or torture. And as the former is rather too much hassle, I tend to favour the latter. Come on then Draco."

"Father?"

"Unless you have feelings for this… this pathetic excuse for a witch?"

"Of course not," he answered, rather too quickly.

"Well then?"

Draco fished out his wand and looked at Hermione, she could see him pleading with his eyes, pleading with her to say something, do something from stopping him having to do this. She could practically hear his voice in her head asking her to forgive him as he raised his wand and said, "Crucio."

Hermione expected the pain but was not prepared for it. It felt as if every inch of her was aflame in agony; she writhed on the floor as her body warped into unfeasible shapes. But no sooner than it started was it over.

"Tell me what you know, or you will be in even more pain," Lucius said menacingly.

Hermione was panting rather heavily. "I don't know anything," she maintained.

Lucius looked at Draco and signalled for him to do it again but Draco shook his head. "Father, can I have a word? Somewhere else?"

His father looked exasperated but followed Draco outside, shutting the door behind him securely.

Hermione lay on the floor, her muscles burning, completely unable to move. She was sure Draco had cut the curse short but had he really had to do it in the first place? And where had they gone now?

She did not have long to wait, in very little time at all they were back. "You are to accompany my son," Lucius ordered and then turned heel and left.

"Accompany you where?" she asked, wincing as she tried to sit up.

He crouched down to her and, pointing his wand at her, muttered something. She felt a tingling sensation replace the pain and found she was quite able to sit up straight. "Listen," he whispered, "I tried to cut it as short as I could, but there was no way I could get out of it. I had an idea though, I'll tell you about it when we get upstairs." He stood up and held out a hand to help her up too.

Hermione did not take it but stood up without assistance, "Are we going back to your room?"

He nodded.

"And then what?"

"What do you mean?"

"And how long am I going to stay there until you put me somewhere else? No, I think I'll stay here thank you very much."

"Look Granger, this is best for all concerned. Trust me."

"Trust you?! Trust someone who just put me under the cruciatus curse? Who is a lying coward? I don't think so!"

"Can we just get out of here and then talk?"

She did not reply but allowed him to take hold of her arm and guide her out the cell, along the corridor and up the stairs. When they were in the grand entrance hall she jerked her arm from his grasp and pelted across the room towards the door. "Arresto!" she heard Malfoy shout and suddenly could not move.

He marched towards her and took hold of her once more, "Don't be stupid, Granger. You would never have made it past those doors." With a firmer grasp of her, he led her up with sweeping staircase and then into his room once more.

Once they were in his room, he shut the door behind him and let go of her. Hermione glared at him and stalked over to the window, "Well?" she asked.

"I couldn't let you go, the front doors are enchanted to only let few exit, I think Father gets a notification even if I leave them."

"So find another way for me to get out!"

"I can't."

"Why not? For the same reason you put the cruciatus curse on me?"

She saw a pained expression cross his face, "I didn't have any choice. If I hadn't done it Father would have and you can bet that that would have been worse for all concerned."

She looked away from him to the grounds beyond the Manor and the next moment felt his arms slipping around her waist, "Hermione," he said softly against her hair.

For a second she felt like forgiving him for the pain and humiliation, believing that he had no choice, that there was no way that he could have stood up to his father and she leant back against him. But a niggling voice in the back of her head could not help think that there must be _something_ that he could do, someway that he could get her out of here, if only he was not so scared. She gently detached herself from him and turned to gaze up at him, "please don't," she whispered.

He looked hurt but didn't say anything, and she moved back around to look out the window. As she stood there she was vaguely conscious that he had moved away from her to sit on the chez long that she had occupied on her last visit. Hermione climbed up on the wide windowsill, leaning her back against the side of it, and hugged her knees tightly. She sighed as she stared out of the window; she had to admit that her prison was darkly beautiful. It was still relatively early and so the sun was not very high in the sky but already it was very bright and the grass glistened with the recently fallen rain. She missed Harry and Ron so terribly. What had they thought had happened to her by now? It must be a week and a half at least since she had been captured, did they think her dead? Were they still trying to find her? Or were they still trying to work towards the defeat of You-Know-Who. It was strange, Hermione was still desperate to get out of here, but it was now much more of a dull desperation; she was not sure whether it would ever happen. She didn't worry for her safety so much anymore, so long as Lucius Malfoy wanted to keep her alive.

"Don't you want to know why you are here?" Malfoy asked, breaking into her contemplations.

"I suppose so," she replied, not looking at him.

"When Father asked me to put you under the curse for the second time, I had an idea, I didn't think I could do that to you again so I was desperate to do something else instead, something that didn't involve harming you anymore."

"Not physically anyway," she muttered.

If he heard her he didn't give any indication that he had, "when we left the room you were in, I told Father that I had already questioned you extensively and that I did not think that you would give way to conventional methods. I was surprised when he agreed with me and asked what my idea was. 'Simple,' I told him, 'I'll just make her fall for me.' He looked sceptical at first but in the end agreed that it was a good plan. He said I could charm the socks off a pureblood so I would have no trouble with a-" he stopped quickly, "with you. So that is why I have brought you up here, he thought it best, although of course I was not supposed to tell you, I was supposed to concoct some plausible explanation. He thought that if I wooed you, you would tell me everything."

"And when I don't tell you anything?"

"We will have to think of something you can tell me."

She swung around to look at him, "so, in essence, you are going to do exactly what you told you father you would!"

He jumped up to walk over to him and took her hand in his, she didn't resist. "Hermione, I've fallen for you. I don't know how, or when, but I have. And that is certainly _not_ part of the plan I told Father. I couldn't think what else to do. At least here you will be warm and fed and you can read as much as you like," he smiled slightly.

She gave his hand a little squeeze. "I know," she said quietly, "but I can't stay here forever Draco."

He sat down next to her and pulled her close to hug her, she wrapped her arms around his firm torso and leant against him. It was so comfortable; she wanted to stay like this forever.

_Author's note: hey, I am not going to be updating for a while because I have to concentrate on revising for a raather important exam that I have already failed once and certainly cannot afford to do again! But thanks for the reviews and please keep them coming - I hate those people who say they will only update when they reach a certain number, I don't think that is what this is all about, but I really appreciate them and please keep them coming. As for the story, I am not exactly sure what is happening, Hermione keeps pulling me in another direction from the one I am trying to go down, but really, that girl has a mind of her own. Having said that, it's still vaguely on course! x_


	14. Hunting around

Hermione heard the clock in the hallway strike eleven and they were still in the same position. Neither could come up with a solution to their situation but both seemed reluctant to relinquish the comfort they felt in this attitude. Draco softly stroked her hair as Hermione thought. "Hermione," Draco said, breaking the silence at last and pulling her back to reality, "I have to go."

"Go where?" she asked.

"I am needed."

"By who?" she let go of him and sat up straight and then it dawned on her, he was branded by the dark mark wasn't he. She knew exactly who wanted her, and she felt repelled; she was hugging a person who was at You-Know-Who's bidding, she had been told by him that he was falling for her, she had kissed him for Merlin's sake!

He got off the windowsill giving her a look that said he knew she knew. He walked into his huge wardrobe and pulled out some dark robes and the horrendous mask. Pulling on the robes, he walked to his door, "don't do anything stupid and don't leave this room. You can look at the books if you like." And he left.

Anger surged through her as she watched his retreating back and the door close firmly. _Don't do anything stupid_. Well, if he thought she was going to sit there like a good little girl and entertain herself with a book, he had another thought coming. She had thought it before, and she thought it again, her wand was probably in this room if it was anywhere in this house and if she didn't have her wand, she didn't stand a chance. She spied a large mahogany cabinet to the left of the bookcase and decided that that was the best place to start looking. Even if Draco had the room spelled to alert him to her touching things, he was too busy now wasn't he? And besides, maybe he wouldn't care? He was only keeping her there because he was scared of his father. And maybe Lucius Malfoy was away with Draco.

Hermione made her way over to the cabinet and lightly touched the top surface; nothing seemed to happen so she grasped the handles of the top drawer, one in each hand and pulled it open. It was full to bursting of what Hermione thought looked like rubbish; old broken quills, a sneakoscope, a revealer like she had had in second year and various other bits of what her mother would have called "tat". Quickly and carefully, she shifted the rubbish to make sure her wand was not under it all, but it was not. She closed the drawer and opened the next. This one was full of paper, what looked like correspondence with his friends at Hogwarts. She pulled out one piece and was disgusted to find it was a letter from Pansy Parkinson, and not just any old letter. A love letter. As she read it, she felt a pang of jealousy which she quickly quashed. The letter started off lovey-dovey, full of 'my little Dracy-poo's but as it went on became more and more explicit, enough to make Hermione turn red. She picked up more letters and it was more of the same. She wondered what response they had been given.

Without warning, the door shot open and Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway, looking very angry. He marched over to the guilty-looking Hermione and ripped the letters from her hands, shoved them back in the drawer and slammed it shut. "What the hell were you doing?" he demanded.

Hermione didn't want to admit it but she was a little scared by this furious Draco. "I wasn't doing anything," she lied.

He came up to her and put his face within two inches of hers, "don't lie to me," he snarled.

She blinked, feeling his hot breath on her.

He seemed to get more a hold on himself and took a deep breath while taking in a deep, steadying breath.

"Why were you looking through my drawers?"

"How did you know I was?"

"I saw you!"

"Don't give me that!" her voice escalating, "they're spelled to tell you if I touch things aren't they?"

"So what if they are? They're _my_ things you are touching!"

"So what?! So you've got me under surveillance that's what!"

"Well, clearly you need it! What were you doing?" he repeated.

"I was looking for my wand!" she shouted.

"You stupid idiot! Do you really think I would leave that lying around?"

"Yes, if you have the whole place spelled!"

"Well, it's not!"

"Why won't you give it back to me?!"

"You know why! If Father found out…"

"I know!" she interrupted, "your skin is much more important than mine!"

"It's not like that."

"Then what, pray tell, is it like exactly because I am having a hard time figuring it out! You lock me up and then you get me out then we are locked up together then you tell me your life story and start making me feel…" she trailed off, "and then your father comes and you act like his little lap dog and you humiliate me and use unforgivable curses on me and then you tell me you are falling for me but you won't let me out!"

"I can't, Hermione, I just can't," he whispered.

"You can, you know you can, you're just too much of a coward!"

She was shocked when she saw that Draco's eyes were glistening and a single tear ran down his cheek. Suddenly all the fury went out of her and she seemed to deflate, feeling very much like a burst balloon.

"You're right, I am scared, so scared. But there is nothing I can do, no way that I can get out. I am free to wonder the house but Father suspects something and now I cannot leave the premises without his express permission. I'm a prisoner in my home. I suppose I could flee when I am out doing his bidding but I couldn't take you with me, you would be here alone and I would not be able to do anything to protect you."

"You're not doing much now; I am trapped here indefinitely, aren't I?" she said, becoming riled once more.

He shook his head, "I don't know how long you will be here, but you are alive and well and that in itself is a constant battle for me to achieve."

"Am I supposed to thank you? It's your fault I am here in the first place, isn't it?"

"Hermione, please. I don't know what else I can do."

"You got me into this, so you can bloody well get me out!"

He turned away from her as another tear trickled down his face.

"Where did you go, Draco?" she asked.

He didn't reply.

"What did he make you do?"

Draco walked into his bathroom and shut the door behind him.

_Author's note: Hey :) I know I said that I wouldn't update in a while. Well... guess what? I couldn't stop thinking about this stupid story! So, I thought the best thing to do would be to get it over and done with.. so I finished it!! Bet you love me now :P erm, so yes. here it all is. Oh and also, I just want to say thanks for all the lovely reviews; it really does make my day getting them. I finished the story but was only going to post the chapters up gradually, but then I thought that wouldn't be very fair. So enjoy x_


	15. Loss

Hermione and Draco had not said a word to each other since their confrontation that morning. He had been downstairs to fetch some lunch and placed it on the side table wordlessly, clearing it up an hour later. They had both spent most of their time in his room, sitting at opposite ends, Hermione reading and Draco scribbling away at Hermione knew not what.

The sun was now setting and Draco got up to light the candles around his room. He walked over to where Hermione was to light the candle next to her and as he did that their eyes met.

Without saying anything, he sat down next to her and took her hand. "Hermione, I found out something this afternoon."

She looked up at him, concerned.

"It's about Fred Weasley."

She turned white, "what about him?"

"Hermione, I'm so sorry, but it seems that she was out one night and Bellatrix caught up with her."

She felt as if she was about to faint, her mouth opened to ask what had happened, but no sound came out.

"Bellatrix seemed to think that Fred would be the missing route to Harry. When she discovered that she wasn't, she was angry. I'm sorry Hermione, Fred's dead."

Hermione let out a cross between a gasp and a scream; she couldn't believe she was hearing this. He couldn't be dead, he just couldn't! It was impossible; there must have been some mistake. Fred was the epitome of life; he exuded it, it couldn't have just left him!

She jumped up, shaking her head, "no, there must have been some mistake," her brain tried to rationalise it. "Maybe it was someone who looked like Fred…" but that would be George, "or maybe she didn't kill him, maybe just hurt him."

He stood up beside her and looked at her solemnly, "There is no mistake, I saw him; it's definitely him and he's definitely gone."

She felt numb, this couldn't be happening. Too many innocent people had died already; her parents, some of the members of the Order, Dumbledore… and now Fred! How would Mrs. Weasley take the news? Did she even know? And what about Ron? And Harry? Would he think it was his fault Fred was dead? She missed them so much, she _needed_ them and she felt that pretty soon they would be needing her.

"Hermione," he said, reaching out to her.

"No!" she said and turned tail and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Hermione did not cry; perhaps she had shed too many tears already this week, this month, this year. Her life, and the lives of the ones she loved, seemed to be entangled in misery and loss. All because one wizard and a couple of his followers thought they had the right to terrorise the population! And it made her feel physically ill to think that she was in a house whose owners supported the cause. And just outside the door was someone just as bad as them, someone who followed them just because it was the easy option! She knew this, so how was it that she had feelings for him? How was that logical?! Why was it that whenever she looked at him, apart from feeling the immediate rage, it was underpinned by genuine sympathy for this person as well as understanding and something a little deeper? He had been horrible and cruel for nearly seven years. It just didn't make sense!

She got in the shower and the water started, it was just about as hot as she could bear. She let the water run over as she stood there, not moving, just thinking. And then the tears did come. She let out great, gulping sobs, screaming in her anguish. Sliding down the side of the shower, she sat on the floor as she wept. She did not hear when Draco knocked on the door and did not see him opening it cautiously to make sure she was alright. He saw her sitting in the shower, the water on full-blast, still fully clothed and sat down next to her. Without saying anything, he rested his hand gently on her cheek and bent down to kiss her. It was long, deep and comforting, his lips were soft and he was so tender. She kissed back with equal warmth and compassion. They broke apart and she clung to him as she cried.

It was a very long time before Hermione could stop; it would seem like she was gradually calming down and then she would remember something else about Fred and a fresh wave of tears would overwhelm her. And Draco was there, holding onto her tightly, saying nothing just offering the comfort she so desperately needed. Eventually though, her tears dried and she became aware of the water pouring on her from above and thought how absurd she must look.

Draco stood up and helped her up, "Come on Hermione," he led her by the hand out of the bathroom making Hermione feel very much like a six year old being led somewhere by her mother. He picked up his wand and dried both of them, "are you hungry?" he asked. She shook her head. "Tired?" she nodded. "Let's go to bed."

Hermione did not have anything to change into for bed so she just kept on her dirty robes and walked over to the chaise lounge. "Sleep in my bed, Hermione, it will be more comfortable, it's plenty big enough for the both of us." Too emotionally drained to refuse she made her way over to the huge four-poster and slipped in between the chocolate brown satin sheets. She didn't notice Draco stripping to just his boxers but felt when he got in the bed with her and drew her in for a comforting hug. Kissing her gently on the forehead he whispered good night. She lay in that attitude, thinking of Fred, for such a long time, just listening to his rhythmic breathing, the odd tear escaping from her eyes. "I love you," she murmured.

_Author's note: I may have pinched a scene here from Casino Royale (the shower bit that is) but I thought it worked. Hmm.. oh! I was also going to say that I had originally written this so Ginny died, but I wrote a page and couldn't do it... I had to go back and change it (I kid you not) and the only reason I killed Fred was because JK already did! x_


	16. Waiting

When Hermione woke up Draco was no longer lying next to her. She opened her eyes and found that he wasn't in his room, the bathroom door was open and he wasn't in there either. She sat up and sleepily rubbed her eyes, wondering what this day would hold for her. On the side table she spotted a tray with some breakfast on it and a note lying next to it.

_Hermione, _

_I did not want to wake you; you looked so peaceful lying there. I have had to go out, please don't ask why. I left you some breakfast, thought you might be hungry. I will be back before lunch. _

_Yours, Draco._

She did not need to ask why he had had to go out, she was certain either his father or You-Know-Who had something else for him to do. She just prayed it was nothing that would hurt him, or anyone else for that matter.

He had been right, she _was_ hungry and tucked greedily into the food in front of her. Fruit, cereal, yoghurt as well as bacon, eggs, sausages and toast she ate, so hungry was she.

She went and had a shower, a real one this time, and scrubbed herself vigorously. She found her clothes lying in a corner next to the shower, neatly folded, clean and mended and put them on carefully. She brushed her hair and her teeth and surveyed her appearance. Her clothes were hanging off her, that's for sure, but at least they were clean. Her bruises and cuts were healing and a small amount of colour was returning to her cheeks.

Hermione left the bathroom and picking up a book, began to read, quickly becoming absorbed in the information she was soaking up.

As the clock struck midday Hermione wondered if Draco was coming back soon. He had said he'd be back by lunchtime but that could be for another couple of hours, she guessed.

At half past one, she was sure he would be back very soon. People didn't eat lunch much later than this, did they?

By three o'clock Hermione was becoming genuinely concerned (not that she hadn't been before, but now it was increasing exponentially). She hoped that whatever he was having to do was just taking longer than expected rather than something had happened to him.

At five o'clock Hermione couldn't read anymore. She was frantic. Where was he? Was he okay? What if something hadn't gone according to plan? What if he was with other Death Eaters and they had turned on him? What if he had been hurt by the Order?

By the time the clock struck nine times, Hermione had been keeping vigil from the window for over two hours. She was so worried about him that she felt ill and she was shaking slightly. She sun was setting and she was now struggling to see anything from the window.

A sound behind her made her jump and she spun round to face the door and let out an involuntary gasp at the sight that met her eyes. It was Draco alright but not as she had ever seen him. His usually blonde hair was mattered with mud and dried blood. His left eye was yellow and swollen shut and a deep gash above it was pouring blood, which trickled down his face and fell on his shoulder. Lesser cuts were evident across his face, some looked several hours old, the others less so. His face was heavily bruised as were his shoulders which she could see through his ripped robes. All over his body was the evidence of multiple horrendous curses, each designed to inflict the maximum amount of pain. He could hardly walk and looked like the effort of getting to his room had cost him dearly.

"Oh my god," she said, running over to him, "what on earth happened?!"

He couldn't say anything, he just swayed where he stood. Hermione helped him stagger over to his bed and lay him down upon it. She carefully took off his clothes, trying not to wince at the sight that met her eyes; blood, dried and fresh caked his body. It was not easy to take off his heavy robes but eventually she managed, leaving him in just his boxers. "Draco, I need your wand," she said. He was delirious and couldn't answer but she found it in a fold of his cloak.

She grasped the wand firmly, feeling a little odd. She briefly thought about making a run for it. She had his wand and he wouldn't be able to stop her, maybe she would be able to leave this place, she could apparate away once out of the Manor and then come back with help for him. But nearly as soon as she had the thought she had to dismiss it; there was no way that she could leave him in this state. She conjured a bowl of hot water and a cloth and began to clean his wounds. As soon as she put the cloth on his face for the first time, he let out a high pitched scream and writhed, "no no, you can't, I won't do it," he yelled.

"Ssh," she soothed, "it's okay, you're back here. Nothing is going to happen to you, I'm here. Hermione is here."

He calmed after a while as Hermione kept murmuring to him. She cleaned his wounds as best she could and even tried a few healing spells; none worked particularly well but they were better than nothing. Eventually he was clean and Hermione noticed for the first time how pale he was; he had lost a lot of blood, was he in serious danger? Should she get him to St. Mungo's? Well, she couldn't do that anyway. She would have to nurse him.

Sitting next to him, she propped up his head with her hand and tried to get him to sip some water; it was very tricky but not entirely unsuccessful. Whilst doing this, she realised that he was drenched in cold sweat and threw some blankets on top of him.

Hermione sat up during the night, nursing Draco through his delirium, mopping his forehead with the damp cloth and soothing him through his nightmares. She talked softly to him as he screamed and thrashed about, helped him sip water occasionally, just trying her best to ease his pain.

By the early hours of the morning he was unconscious, Hermione sat propped up against the headboard, his head in her lap. She stroked his brow tenderly, wishing she wasn't so helpless; she didn't know any spells to help him now and she didn't want to risk getting it wrong.

Hermione must have drifted off to sleep because she was jerked awake by a cracked voice calling her name.

"Draco," she said softly, smiling with relief, "how are you feeling?"

"You're still here," he said, trying not to move his face too much.

"Of course, where else would I be?" she asked, stroking his brow.


	17. Feelings

When she woke up, Hermione had a terrible crick in her neck from the awkward position she had been sitting in. She shifted, trying to get into a more comfortable attitude, and in the process must have knocked Draco slightly because he opened his eyes and smiled.

"I heard what you said," he whispered.

"I didn't say anything," she replied, smiling back.

"No, the night before last, when you thought I was asleep," he stopped, coughing. Hermione looked concerned and tried to shush him but he continued, "I love you too."

Hermione's heart literally, _literally_, skipped a beat, "what did you say?"

"Hermione, I love you."

"You… you…"

"I _love_ you. I love you so much; I ache when we're apart."

"Oh, Draco. I love you too," she smiled, "I'd kiss you but I don't want to hurt you anymore."

He grinned, "I don't care." He tried to sit up to kiss her properly but was still too weak so Hermione put a hand on his shoulder to stop him and slid down beside him. She gently caressed the side of his face and leant forward to kiss his lips, applying as little pressure as possible, terrified of injuring him anymore. But he seemed unsatisfied with this and leant into her more, deepening the kiss and making it much more passionate. Before she knew what was happening, they were wrapped around each other and his hands were roaming all over her body, now under her top and now they were on the top of her jeans, fumbling with the catch.

Putting a hand on his to stop him, she pulled away, breathing heavily. "I don't think now is the right time."

His confused expression was quickly replaced by one of acute embarrassment. "Sorry," he said thickly, "I, erm, just got carried away. Sorry."

She grinned, pushing his hair off his forehead tenderly, "don't apologise. I'm just not sure either of us is up to it at the moment."

He gave her a half smile, "you're probably right. Sorry."

"Stop it!" she giggled uncharacteristically, "I really don't mind. Another time?"

"Another time," he agreed, kissing her gently and then lying back on the pillow.

Hermione was equally tired and had no trouble drifting off to sleep.

It was dark when she woke up again, Hermione had no idea what the time was; they must have slept the whole day away. She glanced across at Draco and found that he had his eyes open and was watching her intently, a smile on his face.

"Hello, you," she said, "how are you feeling?"

"All the better for seeing you."

She laughed, "I don't think you suit soppy-ness! No, seriously?"

"Seriously, seeing that you are awake has made me feel immeasurably better."

"Draco Malfoy, stop avoiding the question!"

"I feel dreadful, Hermione," he admitted, "Every inch of me feels as if it is afire. My head is spinning and I feel sick. Happy?"

She looked solemn and took his hand in hers as it looked like the only part of him not bashed, bruised or broken. She gave it a gentle squeeze but didn't say anything.

When Draco had not said anything for nigh on half an hour Hermione assumed that he must be asleep and decided to get up and get a book to read. As she was pulling her hand from his, she felt a slight resistance. "Don't go," he said.

"Okay," she replied softly, "I'm not going anywhere."

"Hermione," Draco broke the silence after nearly twenty minutes, "aren't you wondering what happened?"

"Of course," she replied, "but I don't want to push you, if you're not ready to talk about it…"

"No, that's okay. You should know," he said weakly. "That morning, when we were still asleep I felt my mark burn so I jumped out of bed, scribbled you a note and got you some breakfast before I got dressed and apparated away to the Dark Lord. He had a mission for me, a task he said that he could not entrust to anyone other than me. I had to go to Hogwarts and fetch Ginny Weasley, convince her to come away with me and not tell anyone and bring her to him. He knew of her and Potter's mutual regard for each other and was convinced that she would be able to lead us straight to him."

"Oh my God, not Ginny," Hermione whispered, not sure if she could take losing another Weasley.

He squeezed her hand and continued, "I refused."

Hermione's eyes opened wide in shock and suddenly it all made sense; the only people who would inflict this amount of pain on him while making sure he was still alive were his own people, Death Eaters.

"To say that Father was disappointed in me would be a gross understatement. He was livid; anger enough to match the Dark Lord's and did not need telling twice to punish me."

"Your own father did this to you?"

Draco nodded, "some. Then he got bored and handed me over to Bellatrix," he shuddered.

She turned on her side so that she was completely facing him and caressed his shoulder very gently, "it's okay now. It's over." He looked so completely lost and broken that she felt a need to protect him, to not let anything else happen to him. But she knew it was ridiculous, what on earth could she do? Her situation hadn't changed; she was still trapped here, without a wand, for the foreseeable future.

He didn't reply.

"Are you hungry?" she asked quietly.

"Not really," he answered.

"Well, I am. Why don't you have something?"

He smiled but did not reply.

Hermione sat up and retrieved Draco's wand from the side table. She managed to conjure some vaguely passable food, "I'm not very good at this, I've never really had to do it before." She broke off a piece of bread and handed it to him.

He took it and ate it slowly, "I never thought I would see the day when Hermione Granger was mothering me," he smiled, "but I must admit I am quite enjoying it."

She slid back down next to him, having put the food on the table beside the bed, "Draco, I am not _mothering_ you, I am _nursing_ you and the two are _very _different," she smiled suggestively. She leant forward to kiss him.

"My mistake," he said, between one kiss and the next. Both seemed to forget their pain, sorrow and fatigue as they kissed and entwined themselves in each other. Before she knew it, she was in her underwear and Draco was trailing kisses down her body. His hands felt amazing on her skin and all she wanted to do was deepen their connection, get closer and closer to him. She pressed the full length of her body against hers and heard him moan. But this time it was he who drew away from her.

"Hermione," he murmured, breathing heavily.

She looked confused and bewildered, "did I do something wrong?"

He stroked the side of her forehead, "no, my love. You're perfect."

"Is this hurting you too much?"

He shook his head, "no, it's not that. It's just… are you sure you want to do this? You're not my first but I think I'm yours."

She nodded.

"Are you sure you're ready?"

She looked at him solemnly, "Yes." And with that she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him deeply.

_Author's note: I am not comfortable writing smut, so that is as far as it goes! _


	18. Reunited

The room was still dark when Hermione opened her eyes. It took her a few moments before she remembered the events of last night and she smiled to herself; she could not imagine it going any better. Slipping out of bed, she retrieved her clothes from the bed folds and quickly put them on. Hermione walked over to the window and saw that in fact the sun must have risen a while ago but the clouds were so dark and thick it was having trouble peeking through. She thought that there would most likely be a storm soon and as if on cue a lightening bolt lit up the room which was followed very quickly but a loud clash of thunder, indicating that the storm was very near. The rain came pouring down from the heaving, pounding against the windows and making it difficult to see out.

The thunder must have woken up Draco because when she turned towards him, she saw that he had his eyes open and was watching her intently. She walked over to him and leant over to kiss him deeply.

"Hello gorgeous, I had the best time last night," he grinned.

"Me too," she replied.

"Right, I am going to get us some breakfast. I am not sure how much more of your conjured food I can eat," he teased.

"Are you sure you're up to it?" she asked, concerned.

"I'm sure; your nursing last night must have done the trick." He pulled the cover off himself to reveal his nakedness and Hermione's eyes opened wide and she turned red with embarrassment, swinging around and walking briskly to the bookcase, examining books.

He laughed, "Hermione, seriously. Considering what we did last night, I think you are acting a little prudishly."

She made an indistinct noise and kept intently scrutinising the spines.

When Draco walked over to her, he was fully dressed and put his hands on her waist, spinning her around to meet him.

"Get away from her, you bastard!" a very familiar voice yelled. Hermione swung around to find that in front of her were her two best friends with their wands raised pointing directly at Draco.

Draco took his hands off Hermione and put them up in the air, "Potter,Weasley-"

"Stupefy!" Ron yelled.

"Stop!" Hermione screamed as Draco ducked to avoid the curse and Harry opened his mouth to shout another.

Harry and Ron looked shocked but did not carry on with their curses; they kept their wands raised though. Hermione ran over to them and gave each a huge hug.

"It's okay, Harry, Ron. He's has been good to me."

"Good to you? Hermione, he's been keeping you here!" Harry said incredulously.

"He didn't have any choice."

"Of course he had a choice!" Ron roared, looking ready to try another curse.

"Please Ron, he's okay! He couldn't do anything to get me out. Lucius Malfoy made sure of that."

"Well, we made short work of him," Harry boasted.

"Did you…?" she asked.

"Just stunned, we'll tell Kingsley when we get you out of here." Harry replied.

"Yeah, and get him to pick up this ferret at the same time," Ron added.

Draco sneered, "Weasel, what makes you think I would go with him?"

Hermione turned to look at Draco, "Please Draco, this isn't helping."

"Draco?!" Ron spluttered. "Draco?!" He saw Hermione reach for his hand and practically exploded, "what the hell are you doing?!"

"Ron, please calm down."

"I will not calm down! He's a Death Eater Mione!"

"He doesn't have a choice Ron!"

"Ron's right, Hermione. What are you doing?" Harry asked.

"I love him," she said sincerely, mainly addressing Ron.

"What?!" Ron yelled. He ran up to Draco and pointed his wand at his throat. "What have you done to her?! Bewitched her in some way? Got her under the imperious curse?!"

"Ron! I am not bewitched!"

He spared her half a glance, before turning back to Draco, "she would say that if she was though, wouldn't she?"

"Ron," Harry said, "I think we need to get out of here."

Ron ignored him. "I know what this is!" he declared, "this is classic, you know, when the hostage falls in love with the kidnapper, syndrome!"

"Stockholm?" Hermione suggested.

"We really have to get going!" Harry repeated, a little more desperately but was ignored once more.

"Yer, maybe. Whatever you have done to her," Ron said, threatening Draco, "you need to undo it!"

"Ron! I have had enough of this! If Harry says we need to go, then we do. We'll take Draco with us; he is in as much danger as us, and I will explain later."

Ron looked at her and scowled; she was probably right.

"Okay, Ron," Harry said, finally in control of the situation, "you keep an eye on Malfoy and I will look after Hermione."

He nodded and grabbed hold of Draco who took in a sharp intake of breath. "Careful with him, Ron!" Hermione ordered.

"Careful, sure I'll be careful. I'll be as careful as he deserves," Ron muttered so that only Draco could hear it.

Harry took told of Hermione's hand and let her out, along the corridor and down the stairs. "Hermione," he said, "we were so worried. It's been over two weeks since you went missing. We were frantic. Thank Merlin you're okay."

She smiled, "Thank Merlin you came."

As they moved through the entrance hall, Hermione spotted an unconscious Lucius Malfoy lying in the corner and suppressed a shiver. They made their way through the ajar door and suddenly Hermione felt the fresh air on her face, the rain on her head and heard the noises of the outside; it was glorious. She could scarcely believe that she was free at last.

Harry and Hermione, with Ron and Draco in hot pursuit, rushed down the sweeping drive and through the large iron gates. There Harry's grasp on her tightened and suddenly she was experiencing the unpleasant sensation of side-along apparition. They arrived in a forest, just outside a dilapidated wooden building and Hermione fell to her knees. "Hermione!" Harry helped her up and over to a tree stump that she could sit on. "You must have been through such an ordeal. I am so glad you're okay."

Ron and arrived with Draco a short while later and although Draco fell over when he landed, Ron did not try and help him up as Harry had done for her so she made her way over to him, sitting on the damp floor next to him.

Ron gave Draco the evils and turned to Harry, "have you sent the message to Kingsley yet?"

"No, I was just about to Ron. Why don't you get some food for Hermione?"

He nodded and went into the shed, appearing a few moments later with a glass of water and some food. He handed it to Hermione who promptly gave it to Draco. Ron scowled.

"What the hell are you doing with that git?"

"Ron! I told you before. I love him. I didn't mean to, but I do. And there is nothing you can do about it, so don't bother."

He glared.

"Aren't you two going to tell me what has been going on?"

Harry, who had just sent the message glanced at Ron and then at Draco. "Not in front of him," Ron said menacingly.

"Well, I'm not leaving him. He was practically killed by his father the other day."

"No more than he deserves," Ron muttered.

"I heard that! Please tell me," she said, addressing Harry this time.

"Okay," Harry said, crouching on the damp ground, Ron glowering behind him.

"We did it, Hermione. Voldemort is dead. Gone forever."

Hermione blinked, looked from one face to the other and blinked again, unable to digest the information.

"Seriously, Hermione. Harry and I managed to work out how to do it and last night we did. With a little help from the ministry. Hence the delay in getting you," Ron explained.

She was stunned. Had she heard right? Was what they were saying really true? And then it sunk in. She jumped up, pure ecstasy written across her face. "I can't believe you did it!" she yelled, hugging Harry and then Ron and giving each of them a kiss on the cheek.

Ron turned bright red from the kiss Hermione gave him, clashing with his hair awfully, and mumbled something about how it had been nothing. Harry gave him a look.

Harry beamed, "but you need to keep your voice down Hermione. The country is now swarming with Death Eaters and no one to organise them; it's chaos. I think, all in all, it is safer for us to remain hidden until the Ministry manage to round up the last of them."

"Yer," Ron said, "including that one over there."

"Please," Hermione said, suddenly quite exhausted.

"Hermione, he's been an awful git to us for six and a half years, a Death Eater for two. He deserves what's coming to him."

Hermione didn't have the energy to argue and neither did Draco who was lying on the forest floor fast asleep.

_Author's note: I loved writing this chapter. I missed Ron. Also, I know it is a bit of an anti-climax with the whole Voldemort thing and I am sorry if you thought you were going to get a great fight. But I think that is something JK did so well there is no need to imitate it, these stories are supposed to be about something completley different and putting in the fight with Voldemort felt as if it would detract from the overal story. So I didn't bother x_


	19. The Ministry

They spent most of the day in the woods catching up on the events of the past two weeks. Hermione kept praising the boys, amazed that they had managed to figure out what she had and defeat Voldemort. She was so proud of them and told them so, which made Ron blush again.

They also talked a lot of Fred. Ron had found out almost as soon as it happened and was understandably deeply saddened. Hermione tried her best to console him but there was not much that she could do. In the end they fell to reminiscing.

When Draco woke up again he sat propped up against a nearby tree, wrapped in a blanket Hermione had managed to find inside the small house. He did not volunteer any input into the trio's conversation and was not asked to. He sat and listened as the three best friends talked and talked and ate and drank, revelling in their companionship. Occasionally Hermione would glance at him, making sure he was still alright and thinking of the night before.

When darkness fell, they decided to go into the cabin. Inside was a small double bed, along with a bunk bed in one corner and in the other was a rudimentary kitchen. Cornered off on the opposite side was a barely functioning bathroom.

"Harry and I will sleep in the double bed," Ron announced as they entered. Harry turned to him and raised an eyebrow but did not question him, he was sure that this was only to prevent a different couple of people having it.

Draco took the bottom bunk and Harry helped Hermione up onto the top as she was still quite weak; all in all it hadn't been the best two weeks of her life.

Hermione was woken in what she assumed to be the middle of the night by the sound of footsteps outside the run-down building. Terrified that it was Death Eaters she reached for her wand before remembering that she had not seen it in over two weeks. Deciding the best policy was to try and make them think no one was there, she remained silent.

The door opened and some black robed wizards ran it. Hermione, terrified, let out a high pitched scream which immediately woke the boys. Harry and Ron jumped to their feet, wands pointed at the intruders.

"Identify yourself," Harry demanded.

"Lumos," the front wizard said, lighting his wand to see to whom he was talking. "I am Philippo Thackery, charged with rounding up errant Death Eaters and who might you…" he trailed off, realising exactly who was talking to. "Harry Potter?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes," Harry said.

"We received reports that exactly 10.04 am a Mr. Ronald Weasley performed a side along apparition with a known Death Eater, Draco Malfoy to right outside this house." He continued, becoming business-like once again.

He looked at Ron, "where is Draco Malfoy?"

Ron looked uneasy, "oh, erm…"

Hermione sat in her bed, praying this was a dream. They couldn't take him away, not now. Ron would certainly just tell this Ministry official where Draco was and it would all be over.

But Ron didn't give away his position. Draco did that. He stood up weakly, "I am here."

Two wizards behind Philippo Thackery ran past him and Harry and Ron to grab hold of Draco. One of them shot rope out of his wand which bound his wrists and the other dragged him away.

"Goodbye Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, ma'am," and with that he turned and was gone.

Hermione was in shock. She stared at the door where the black robed wizards had taken Draco. Not knowing what to do or say, Harry and Ron stared at Hermione. Then they both made their way over to her and hugged her as she cried.

She knew there was no hope; he was a Death Eater. He had committed horrible crimes and would be punished for them. It was his fault that Dumbledore was dead, his fault that she had been held hostage for two weeks, his fault that… but she had to stop. She knew the list went on and on but she could not bear to think about it. She loved him, pure and simple. And now he had been ripped away from her.

When the sun rose Hermione had a plan. Even Death Eaters had the right to a fair trial? She would simply go down to the ministry and testify on his behalf. She would say that Draco had done everything in his power to protect her when she had been kidnapped (she just wouldn't say he had kidnapped her in the first place) and he would be free. She couldn't face the thought of losing him and of him ending up in Azkaban, so she just ignored it.

Jumping off her bunk bed, she gently shook Harry and Ron to wake them up. They had tried to console her for hours but she had eventually told them to just get some sleep when she saw that they were dosing off while still standing up.

"Guys," she said quietly. "I'm going to the Ministry."

"Wha-" Ron said thickly. "Why?"

"Because I have to testify on Draco's behalf."

"Hermione," Harry said, "are you sure that is the best idea?"

"Yes," she replied definitely and began to walk through the doorway.

"Wait," Ron said.

She turned around to see they were getting out of bed.

"You don't have to come with me."

"Hermione," Harry said, slowly, "when have you _ever_ not gone with me somewhere? You two followed me even when I didn't want to be followed. We're coming with you."

Hermione did not argue. Truth be told, she was glad of the company. She was very apprehensive about the next few hours.

Still wandless, Harry took hold of her and they apparated to the visitors' entrance of the Ministry of Magic. Cramming into the phone box, they stated their names and purposes and quickly found themselves in the impressive entrance hall of the Ministry.

Hermione rushed over to the information desk and had to wait in a long queue, behind some definitely suspect looking people. Impatiently she waited as the witch behind the counter seemed to take inordinate amounts of time with each query. Eventually, though, it was Hermione's tern.

"Good morning," she said politely. "I was wondering if you could tell me where and when the trial of Draco Malfoy is being held."

The witch flicked through some parchment on her desk. She seemed to find the one she was looking for and ran her perfectly manicured nail down a column.

"Draco Malfoy, Death Eater trial, full Wizengamot, courtroom 2, commences eight thirty am."

Hermione looked at the clock; it was already quarter to nine.

"Thanks," she said, already rushing towards the lift at the other end of the huge hall, Harry and Ron running after her.

Hermione jumped into a lift whose doors were already closing, disgruntling a few of the wizards and witches who were already inside. Harry and Ron only just made it in after her.

The lift was painstakingly slow and eventually arrived at the right floor. Hermione was out of the lift almost before the doors were opened and careered down the hall. She stopped short in front of a large oak studded door, above it was an iron number two. She was sure that this was the right place.


	20. The end

Without knocking she entered the room. It was huge and round with stone seating around the whole circumference and dimly lit. In front of her were the Interrogators; 50 witches and wizards all wearing plum coloured robes, the Chief Warlock sat amongst them with his scribe on his left. In the centre sat on a chair which bound his hands and feet was Draco Malfoy.

As she entered there was a hush and all eyes turned on her. Draco twisted around in his chair to see her, "Hermione," he said, "you shouldn't be here."

"What is the meaning of this intrusion?" the chief warlock demanded.

"My name is Hermione Granger, sir," she began nervously. "I am here to testify on the behalf of Draco Malfoy."

"Hermione Granger?" he asked, "yes, I have heard of you. Aren't you a friend of…" spotting Harry he nodded towards him. "Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, I presume. We are greatly indebted to you." He turned back to Hermione, "Miss Granger, we have heard the evidence against Draco Malfoy and he has admitted to being a Death Eater. I do not think there is anything you can do to sway the verdict that will inevitably pass."

"Are you implying that you have decided on the verdict before you have heard _all_ the evidence?" Hermione asked innocently.

The Chief Warlock looked uncomfortable. "Of course not. What have you to say?"

"Only this; Draco Malfoy is a good person. He has done wrong in his life but that is because he was forced to by his father, Lucius Malfoy, and by Voldemort," a shocked intake of breath went around the room at the mention of his name. "When I was captured a couple of weeks ago he fought his father for my safety and ensured that nothing happened to me," she paused, could they tell she was omitting certain facts? "And four days ago when he was summoned to Voldemort and told to complete a task involving the capture of Ginny Weasley," she caught Ron's eye, "he refused at great personal danger. You can see the result of his refusal."

The Chief Warlock was silent for a while, "is that all you have to say Miss Granger?"

She nodded.

"Right," he said, now addressing the Interrogators, "are we ready to vote?" General noises of assertion were heard throughout the room.

"Those in favour of releasing Draco Malfoy?" Hermione surveyed the room and no one put their hands in the air.

"Those in favour of prosecuting him?" There was a whoosh of fabric as every hand in the room, aside from Hermione's and her three friends', went up.

"Draco Malfoy," the Chief Warlock said, "you are hereby sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban jail for the crimes you committed whilst being a Death Eater, notably causing the death of one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

"No!" Hermione couldn't believe it! It couldn't be true! "He's a good person! He didn't have a choice! You can't do this!" She sobbed. Hermione swayed where she was and would have fallen over had not Ron caught her.

A large Ministry official came over to the chair where Draco was bound and released him. Holding him tightly so that he couldn't run away, he led him out of the courtroom.

Hermione pulled herself from Ron's grip and ran after them. "Draco!" she screamed.

"Hermione, please," he said softly, not even turning around.

"Draco, they can't do this to you!" she seemed to be pleading, tears streamed down her face.

"Listen," Harry said, speaking to the official, "could you please just give them a moment to talk?"

The official looked very uncomfortable but could not refuse considering who it was who had asked the question.

Hermione looked thankfully at Harry and followed the official who led them into a small room. He let go of Draco and stood in front of the closed door.

Wordlessly, she hugged him, so tightly, clinging on to him in the hope that if she clung he would never go. He hugged her so hard that she thought the air was being squeezed out of her.

Draco kissed the tears off her face and glanced nervously at the large wizard behind him. "Hermione, I love you, you know that. I love you with all my heart. I would do anything for you and I know you would do anything for me."

She sobbed, nodding, "I love you too, so, so much. I can't believe this is happening. They can't do this!"

"Hermione, listen to me. I want you to promise me something."

She nodded, "anything."

"I need you to forget me, get on with your life, marry Ron and have lots of babies with him. You deserve happiness and he can give it to you, he loves you Hermione."

"I can't do that, I-"

"You can and you will Hermione, promise me you will."

"I promise," she whispered.

He smiled, kissing her softly. "Forget me," he said, turning away.

"Draco!" she called after him frantically, "there's something I have to tell you."

He turned back.

But she couldn't say it, how could she? There was no way she could. So she didn't. "I love you."

"I love you, Hermione." And with that last look he turned and was escorted out by the official.

Hermione fell to her knees weeping. She rested a hand on her stomach, where their baby was growing inside her and wondered what the future held for him or her.

_Author's note: so that is the end. I hope you enjoyed it! I had mucho fun writing it :) Please let me know what you think. And, by the way, I have great plans for a sequel! x_

_2nd Author's note: Okay so the thing is that very very very important exam is on monday which if I don't pass they chuck me out of uni so obviously I am concentrating on that right now but the sequel is a little trickier than anticipated - for it to work I am going to have to write a middle story which is what I am having trouble with because it is out of my comfort zone somewhat. But anyway, it is coming. :) xx_


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